Burritos, Buddha & Baggage

September 30, 2011 at 11:20 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, silver lining, twins | 7 Comments
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I have been trying to move past the fact that there may never be an answer to what caused Sawyer’s death.  It is hard to let go.  A moral from one of the twins’ books has been helping me with this process.  The twins’ great grandparents recently gave them a book call Zen Shorts by Jon J. Muth.  Have you ever heard the Buddhist tale about the Monk with the Heavy Load?

One day two traveling monks reached a town and saw a young woman waiting to step out of her sedan chair. There were deep, muddy puddles and she couldn’t step across without getting mud on her silk robes. She impatiently scolded her attendants, who were carrying heavy packages.

The younger monk walked by the young woman without speaking. But the older monk stopped and picked her up on his back, carrying her across the mud. Not only did she not thank the monk, she shoved him out of her way when he put her down and scurried by him.

As the two monks continued on their way, the younger monk was brooding. After a long time, he finally spoke out. “That woman was so rude but you picked her up and carried her! She didn’t even thank you.”

“I set the woman down hours ago,” the older monk responded. “Why are you still carrying her?”

Letting go does not mean forgetting Sawyer or Jake.  It means moving forward.  It will not always be a straight path.  Luckily, I have some little monks with me on this journey.  Here they are in burrito pose (or more commonly known as shavasana):

Namaste.

Dark Days

September 12, 2011 at 11:54 pm | Posted in Grief | 6 Comments
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The email from Sawyer’s pathologist did not change anything.  However, I somehow feel like I have been catapulted back to the first few months after Sawyer died.   All the familiar feelings are back.  Sleeplessness.  Frustration.  Disbelief.  Sadness.  Guilt.  Desperation.  Anger.  Hopelessness.  Worry.

Life will go on.  I will go with it.

“The world breaks everyone
and afterward
many are strong at the broken places”

   Ernest Hemingway (A Farewell to Arms)
This quote was sent to me years ago in
a letter from my mother’s best friend
who I like to call my friend now too.

Anniversaries (again)

September 10, 2011 at 3:44 pm | Posted in Death, father, Grief, mother, mourning, parents | 4 Comments
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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. 

Just Jake

August 14, 2011 at 4:34 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, hospital, mourning, parents, silver lining | 21 Comments
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Dear Jake,
I cannot believe that you would have been 6 years old today.  In some ways it seems like so long ago since I held you and in some ways it feels like last week.  I have so much to thank you for and I do not think I have ever told you.

First, I would like to thank you for choosing us to be your parents.   I remember running downstairs after taking the pregnancy test and seeing the positive result.  I could not wait to tell your dad.  I was completely filled with joy.  I have not been truly happy since that day.  Do not take this the wrong way, I have been happy.  It is just a different kind of happy and it is often bittersweet.  That wonderful March day I was just so blissfully unaware of the tragedies that life could and would bring.

Second, you made me understand how short and precious life really is.  You showed me in your brief time with me how pure and simple love can be.

Lastly (at least for now), I want to thank you for the strength you have given me.  It is difficult for me to explain but the night your youngest brother Sawyer died you are who was with me.  In the emergency room, you are the one who held me up in the hallway.  I am sure without you I would not have been able to stand let alone walk.  I kept telling myself if I could live in a world without you, I could and would somehow find a way to live without Sawyer.

I wish that we were having a birthday party with you today.  We are not.  Perhaps you are having a cosmic celebration with your little brother, your Mom Mom and your great-grandmother.   Whatever you are doing please know how much I love and miss you.

Sawyer’s Sock

August 4, 2011 at 9:48 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning | 6 Comments
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I walked back into our room the morning that Sawyer died.  In the middle of the floor was a single sock.  I had changed him out of that pair of socks before he went to sleep.

I had dropped the sock the night before.  The other sock, along with the rest of Sawyer’s and the twin’s laundry had all been washed.

I have a confession.  I carry this sock around with me.  I have had it with me since that awful day Sawyer died.  One day I lost it at the playground.  I frantically went back to search for it and luckily found it.  Today I forgot the sock.  I called home and asked Evan to make sure that I had not lost it.  He sent me the picture above of the sock in my drawer.   I forgot my wallet today too but that is a different story.

I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge. That
myth is more potent than history. That dreams are more powerful than facts.
That hope always triumphs over experience. That laughter is the only cure for
grief. And I believe that love is stronger than death.

Robert Fulghum

I so miss those sweet little feet  . . .

Time Can be Tricky (part 3)

July 30, 2011 at 11:58 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, silver lining | 4 Comments
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I have written about time in this post and this one, and I am once again questioning how it can possibly be August in 2 days.  August is filled with bittersweet birthdays and anniversaries.  It comes every year.  I know it is right after July but somehow this year it snuck up on me.  I feel like summer just began and snap it is almost August. 

It will be ok.  We will get through this time of year just like we have in the past.  There are just ups and downs.  I will try to focus on the good days but I know there will be hard days ahead. 

“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living. . . Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter

Thanks to the twins

July 28, 2011 at 10:42 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, parents, SIDS, twins | 14 Comments
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Thanks to the twins I have to get up every morning.  After Jake died, there were days I did not see the point in getting out of bed. 

Four months after Jake’s death, Evan and I spoke to a neighbor who had 2 older boys and a 3 month old baby girl who died.  As Evan and I spoke to the parents about the death of their daughter, the 2 little boys were running around us.

As we walked away from their house I thought about how I could cry all day and go on long walks.  I thought how much harder it must be for them to have to get up every day and take care of 2 other children while grieving for another.  And, if I am honest with myself I envied that they had other children at home as we walked back to our empty house.

The birth of the twins did not make me forget Jake but my life became much busier.  My grief for Jake became a part of me and helped me to (hopefully) be a better mother to the twins.

The morning after Sawyer died our house was not empty.  The twins were home waiting for us to take care of them.  I cannot compare Sawyer’s death and Jake’s death at all.  However, after Sawyer died I had to get myself together and take care of the twins.  I cried as I changed their diapers, fed them and put them to bed but I did it.

The twins have no idea how grateful I am they were born and are alive.  I tell them all the time how much I love them and how lucky I am to be their mom but I do not have the words to express how important they are to me.  I hope they do not feel the weight of my world on their little legs.

Happy Birthday!!

 

Anytime, Anywhere

July 26, 2011 at 11:10 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, parents | 6 Comments
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One of the main reasons I started to write this blog was my hope to help others with their difficult journeys.  I have already written that I do not have magic words of wisdom to heal the pain of bereaved parents.  I came across a letter written by a pediatric nurse which was published by Ann Landers.  I found it helpful so I thought I would pass it along. . .

An Open Letter to Bereaved Parents

I won’t say, “I know how you feel” — because I don’t. I’ve lost parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and friends, but I’ve never lost a child. So how can I say I know how you feel?

I won’t say, “You’ll get over it” — because you never will. Life will, however, have to go on. The washing, cooking, cleaning, the common routine. The chores will take your mind off your loved one, but the hurt will still be there.

I won’t say, “Your other children will be a comfort to you” — because they may not be. Many mothers I’ve talked to say that after they have lost a child, they easily lose their temper with their remaining children. Some even feel resentful that they’re alive and healthy, when the other child is not.

I won’t say,“Never mind, you’re young enough to have another baby” — because that won’t help. A new baby cannot replace the one you’ve lost. A new baby will fill your hours, keep you busy, give you sleepless nights. But it will never replace the one you’ve lost.

Your may hear all these platitudes from your friends and relatives. They think they are helping. They don’t know what else to say. You will find out who your true friends are at this time. Many will avoid you because they can’t face you. Others will talk about the weather, the holidays and the school concert but never about your child. Never about how you are coping.

So what will I say?

I will say, “I’m here. I care. Anytime. Anywhere.” I’ll cry with you if need be. I’ll talk about your loved one. We’ll laugh about the good memories. I won’t mind how long you grieve. I won’t tell you to pull yourself together.

No, I don’t know how you feel — but with sharing, perhaps I will learn a little of what you are going through. And maybe you will feel comfortable with me and find your burden eased. Try me.
Written by Linda Sawley, pediatric nurse; published by Ann Landers

Beaches & Bad Questions

July 24, 2011 at 10:36 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, parents, twins | 3 Comments
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I have always found the beach to be very peaceful.  However, it is not always super relaxing when you go with children.

I had to leave the last few days to go to work.  I did not plan the week this way but had to change things around because of the previous week.

I am a consultant and often go to offices where I have never met anyone before I arrive.  I taught a class where we were waiting for a few minutes for everyone to show up.  While waiting the people already there were talking about their dogs.  They asked me if I have any dogs.  Easy question.  I have 2 dogs.  I even showed pictures of the dogs with the twins.  All is well.

The last person to leave the class turns to me and says, “I do not mean to get personal but are you going to have more children?”  I thought I had completely avoided the “how many children do you have” question with the easy dog conversation.  No such luck.

After thinking for a few moments, I tell her that we already had more children.  Jake was very premature.  Sawyer was full term, went to sleep and did not wake up.  I quickly change the subject.

Later the same day, I am working with someone who is receiving texts from his daughter.  He asks if I have children.  I answer that we have twins at home.  I think this answer sounds pretty good.  And, then there it is again. . .”Do you think you will have more children?”

Sometimes I think that I should consider going into some kind of work where talking is not required.  .  .

Wrong Words

July 22, 2011 at 6:18 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning | 6 Comments
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I like to think the deaths of Jake and Sawyer have made me sensitive to grief.  However, I catch myself asking “how are you?” to bereaved people.  As soon as I say the words I want to take them back.  I know how hard that question is to answer when the world as you know it no longer exists.  I wish I had magic words to take away the pain.  I cannot think of any such words so I am borrowing the words of others. . .

Ways of helping grieving people are as limitless as your imagination.

  1. All that is necessary is a squeeze of the hand, a kiss, a hug, your presence. If you want to
    say something, say, “I’m sorry” or “I care.”
  2. Offer to help with practical matters: e.g., errands, fixing food, caring for children. Say, “I’m going to the store. Do you need bread, milk, etc.? I’ll get the.” It is not helpful to say, “Call me if there is anything I can do.”
  3. Don’t be afraid to cry openly if you were close to the deceased. Often the bereaved find themselves comforting you, but at the same time they understand your tears and don’t feel so alone in their grief.
  4. It is not necessary to ask questions about how the death happened. Let the bereaved tell you as much as they want when they are ready. A helpful question might be, “Would you like to talk? I’ll listen.”
  5. Don’t say, “I know just how you feel.”
  6. The bereaved may ask “Why?!” It is often a cry of pain rather than a question. It is not necessary to answer, but if you do, you may reply, “I don’t know why.”
  7. Don’t use platitudes like “Life is for the living,” or “It’s God’s will.” Explanations rarely console. It is better to say nothing.
  8. Recognize that the bereaved may be angry. They may be angry at God, the person who died, the clergy, doctors, rescue teams, other family members, etc. Encourage their anger and to find healthy ways of handling it.
  9. Be available to listen frequently. Most bereaved want to talk about the person who has died. Encourage them to talk about the deceased. Do not change the conversation or avoid mentioning the person’s name.
  10. Read about the various phases of grief so you can understand and help the bereaved to understand.
  11. Be patient. Don’t say, “You will get over it in time.” Mourning may take a long time. The bereaved need you to stand by them for as long as necessary. Encourage them to be patient with themselves as there is no timetable for grief.
  12. Accept whatever feelings are expressed. Do not say, “You shouldn’t feel like that.” This attitude puts pressure on the bereaved to push down their feelings. Encourage them to express their feelings — cry, hit a pillow, scream, etc.
  13. Be aware that a bereaved person’s self-esteem may be very low.
    Author unknown
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