A Walk to Remember
October 14, 2012 at 10:32 pm | Posted in Grief, life after loss, Love, normal? | 9 CommentsTags: child loss, death of a baby, grief, Jake, miscarriage, new not so normal, October 15, Sawyer, twins, Walk to Remember
Every day 13 babies will be lost to SIDS and other sudden, unexpected infant deaths.
One horrible day in December 2009 our baby, Sawyer, was one of those 13. We remember Jake and Sawyer every day but today Evan and I participated in our 7th Walk to Remember.
The first year it was just the two of us. Jake had died a few months before the walk. Evan and I could barely talk about our child’s death let alone listen to the other sad stories parents were sharing about their losses.
Today we had the twins with us and we were there for Jake and Sawyer.
I can now talk about Jake and Sawyer. I listen to others as they tell about their sons and daughters. I still wish none of us had to live in a world without our child/children.
Tomorrow is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. As part of the day, everyone is invited to light a candle at 7 pm in all time zones, all over the world. The idea is that if everyone lights a candle at 7 pm and keeps is burning for at least 1 hour, there will be a continuous wave of light.
Better
October 8, 2012 at 11:50 pm | Posted in Grief, life lessons, Love, normal? | 9 CommentsTags: child loss, death of a baby, grandparents, gratitude, hospice, Jake, life after loss, Sawyer
I have written before how I am so very lucky for my grandfather. I know that he will not live forever. It was never the plan for him to outlive me. I know that is not what he would want. It defies the circle of life that Evan and I have outlived 2 of our children. Jake and Sawyer were supposed to bury us.
My grandfather is now in hospice. Although life is going in the natural order – it is still hard. I do not want to see my grandfather in pain. I want to make it easier. I do not know what to do except what I have always done – love him unconditionally. And, appreciate how much better the world and my life is because of him.
The Balancing Act
October 4, 2012 at 11:14 pm | Posted in Grief, life lessons, normal?, venting | 5 CommentsTags: dark days, death of a baby, Jake, new not so normal, perspective, quotes, Sawyer, unexplainable
Areas of my life which I wish I could find a balance:
1. Answering the question, “how many children do you have?”
The twins started a new school this year. There are new teachers. New parents.
The twins started preschool the week after Sawyer died. We did not plan it that way but it is the way it worked out. It was a small preschool. I had already answered the questions. I had cried the tears in the parking lot.
Sawyer has been gone over 2 years so I can usually answer the question without the tears. The balance I am trying to find is answering the question without the pity that always seem to come along with it. It is hard to explain but I do not want people to feel sorry for us. I just want to be able to answer the question and talk about Jake and Sawyer.
2. “Being so busy I cannot think” coping technique
In 2005, Jake had died. I was still alive and forced to figure out how to live in a world without him. I searched and searched for steps to follow. A guide. Anything to help me get through the excruciatingly painful moments. I realized that being busy was the way to go. I desperately filled every possible moment.
In 2009 after Sawyer died I continued to utilize my “being so busy I cannot think” coping technique. I am at a point where I need to rethink just how busy I keep myself.
I do not know how to find the balance. There might not be a balance. Or, maybe there is and I will find it one day. Till then I will try to take Dr. Seuss’ advice and “step with care and great tact.”
Home is where the heart is. . .
September 30, 2012 at 11:02 pm | Posted in after death?, Cemetery, Grief, normal? | 7 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death of a baby, Jake, new not so normal, parenthood, Sawyer, thoughts, twins, unexplainable
I think that is how the saying goes. . .but what if your heart has been smashed into a thousand pieces? Where is your home then? I want my home to include all of my children. Jake never left the hospital. Sawyer did live in our home but not for long enough.
Our next door neighbors are selling their house. There has been a lot of talk about what people want in a house. A garage. A basement. X number of bedrooms and bathrooms. The top of my list is actually none of those options. My biggest concern is how far the house is from the cemetery where Jake and Sawyer are buried. We currently live 15 minutes away.
I was speaking to another mom at baseball practice and she mentioned that her neighborhood is at the edge of the cemetery. My mind filled with thoughts of what it would be like to be able to walk over to see Jake and Sawyer. Would I go more often? Would I ever go anywhere without going to the cemetery first? It is so hard to drive by it and not stop.
Today we went and picked out 4 mini pumpkins. One for each of the twins. One for Jake. One for Sawyer. I was thinking that I would bring them to the cemetery as I have done in past years. The twins had another idea. They insisted on bringing the pumpkins to Jake and Sawyer’s room. Jake never had a room in our current house. He was born and died 2 years before we moved into our house. Sawyer did have a room. It was the room next to the twins’ room. And, that is where they brought the 2 mini pumpkins.
Anger
September 24, 2012 at 10:46 pm | Posted in Grief, life lessons, normal?, twins | 7 CommentsTags: anger, child loss, death of a baby, Down syndrome, grandparents, Jake, motherhood, new not so normal, thoughts, trisomy 21
As human beings, our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world — that is the myth of the atomic age — as in being able to remake ourselves. – Gandhi
Anger. It is the 2nd stage of grief according to Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. At the time of Jake’s and Sawyer’s deaths I do not specifically remember feeling anger. Perhaps there was no room for anger because the stages of denial, bargaining and depression seemed to have trapped me. However, anger creeps into my life at unexpected times.
I was waiting in line with one of the twins so that she could sit in a fire truck. We were patiently waiting our turn.
We were in line behind a very cute girl with Down syndrome. She was not so sure about climbing up the stairs of the fire truck. The fireman offered to help her but she wanted to do it herself.
I asked the woman with the girl in front of us in line how old she was. She responded, “She is my daughter’s girl and she is 8.” I wanted to say something back to her like “You mean she is your granddaughter?” I remained silent. Jake would have been 7. Would he have liked fire trucks?
My little girl began to ask repeatedly, “When is it my turn?” My silence broke to reassure her that, “It is your turn next.”
The woman with the girl, looked at my daughter who at this point was jumping up and down as she continued to whine about her turn, pointed towards her granddaughter and said “This will really teach you patience.” And there it was – anger. I was angry at this grandmother. I have not walked in her shoes. I do not know the first thing about her life but I was angry. The voice inside my head wanted to explain to her that I too had a Down syndrome child but he died. He died before I got the chance to learn that level of patience. I once again remained silent.
Boys (& Girls) of Summer
September 10, 2012 at 12:04 am | Posted in after death?, Grief, life after loss, normal? | 6 CommentsTags: baseball, death of a baby, fathers, Jake, life after loss, lucky, new not so normal, thoughts, trisomy 21, twins
When Evan and I were told it was 100% certain that Jake had trisomy 21 (Down Syndrome), 1 million thoughts raced through my mind. I doubt I can adequately articulate my exact thoughts and feelings at that moment. However, when we were “by accident” told that Jake was a boy I remember very clearly the precise thought which entered my mind first. The realization that Evan might not be able to play little league with our son was the thought which resonated first (and loudest) in my brain.
Jake was born 14 weeks early and only lived for 14 days. He did not ever leave the NICU. He never played little league. His little brother and little sister did join a team this year. They played in their first little league game over the weekend.
The team shirts were randomly given out right before the game. I have always thought that Jake’s lucky number was 14. So, maybe just maybe he was there today too.
7 years minus 1 day & I still miss you
August 26, 2012 at 9:14 pm | Posted in after death?, Grief, hydrops, Time | 15 CommentsTags: anniversaries, child loss, dark days, death of a baby, hydrops fetalis, Jake, new not so normal, parenting, quotes, thoughts
It has been said, ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone. Rose Kennedy
Dear Jake,
Tomorrow it will be 7 years since your Dad and I held you. I am still not sure how anyone got me to leave the NICU that Friday night. I have nothing really new to tell you. It is another day without you. Tomorrow will come and you will officially be gone for 7 years. The numbers do not matter. I will miss you forever. Love you always. I will look for you in my dreams.
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.
August Again
August 4, 2012 at 10:54 pm | Posted in Anniversaries, Death, Grief, why I write | 10 CommentsTags: child loss, death of a baby, grief, quotes
No matter how far the distance you have traveled nor the failures that have gathered, hope would still meet you anywhere. – Dodinsky
August comes every year. Right after July. I have lived through these anniversaries of deaths and births before. There are happy days this month too.
Unlike the first year after Jake died not all the days are dark. I will try my best to take care of the twins, keep busy and smile. I will not always succeed.
I have learned that part of my journey since Jake and Sawyer died is that grief at times sneaks up and knocks the wind right out of me. Grief does not take me by surprise in August. I know that it is there and I will brace myself for it.
Odd but Ok
July 20, 2012 at 2:34 pm | Posted in Cemetery, Grief, life after loss, normal? | 6 CommentsTags: child loss, death of a baby, Jake, new not so normal, parenthood, quotes, Sawyer, unexplainable
Ever since Sawyer’s unveiling I have been watching the earth move farther and farther away from Jake and Sawyer’s headstone. Ground settles. No big deal. I kept checking. I thought about bringing some dirt and trying to fill it in. Stones started to fall into the crack. The split grew larger and larger. I decided to ask about it. I went to the office at the cemetery. The groundskeeper explained to me that a combination of ground settling and rain can cause headstones to sink. Not what I wanted to hear. He asked if I could show him the headstone and then he could determine the best course of action. Great. Action is good. In fact, fix it right now, please.
We drove out to Jake and Sawyer. I showed him the crack. He told me that they would lift up the marble and pack it down with more dirt. Ok. I asked, “Can we do that right now? ” He replied that he would put in a work order but it would not get done for a week or 2. I thought about it. Ok. Jake and Sawyer are not going anywhere. There is no urgency. The more I thought about it the more I realized that I was actually taking care of something for them. I will never give them a bath, brush their hair or help them get dressed. Oddly, I felt good about placing the work order to fix the crack between the earth and the headstone.
I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme,
and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end.
Life is about not knowing, having to change,
taking the moment and making the best of it. . .” – Gilda Radner
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A Mourning Mom 