Doctors

February 12, 2012 at 9:02 pm | Posted in Grief, hydrops, hydrops fetalis, venting | 13 Comments
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I have been going to the same primary care doctor for forever. I am not sure how many years forever is, but I know it predates my new normal.  The doctor who I usually saw retired before I had Jake. There have been so many other doctors in my life. Obstetricians, perinatologists, infertility specialists, therapists, pediatricians, cardiologists, pathologists, I could go on and on but you get the point. I have only gone to my primary doctor’s office a few times over the past several years. After the doctor I liked retired I would just go to whoever in the group could see me. Starting over with new doctors since Jake and Sawyer have died is emotional and complicated. Explaining my medical history feels extremely daunting.

I never considered switching until yesterday.  Yesterday I saw a doctor I will call “Dr. H.”  His office walls were covered with articles about his medical expertise along with framed awards and diplomas.  I made the appointment because despite my best efforts, I cannot seem to get rid of a persistent cough.  All I really wanted from Dr. H was a prescription.

As he looked into his computer at my file he seemed to be reading my history.  The subject of Jake and Sawyer came up.  Dr. H asked about depression and if my husband and I had looked into therapy.  I responded “I have got depression and therapy covered, thanks.”

Dr. H went on to comment about Jake.  “Ahh, seems that it was failure for nature to correct itself.”

I stared blankly at Dr. H, took my prescription and left. I now wish I had said something back to him but my mind could not process what he said till it was too late.  If nothing else, I should have responded with Ann Taintor’s perfect quote “Funny. . .I don’t recall asking for your opinion”.

As I walked out of the office I looked again at the diplomas on the wall.  Too bad Dr. H never took a compassion 101 course.

The Things People Say . . .

February 2, 2012 at 9:46 pm | Posted in Grief, life lessons | 12 Comments
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After Jake died people did not know what to say.   There would be a lot of awkward conversations which would start like this:

“He is in a better place.” 

OR,

“He would have had a difficult life.”

Followed by me either not responding at all or starting to cry.

After the twins were born one of the conversations I can recall started with, “Oh how great, you got your boy back.”  

More silence and crying from me.

After Sawyer died there were more statements similar to these –  most of which are not worth repeating, writing down or remembering.  At first, the comments would make me even sadder (which I did not think was possible).  Then the comments made me mad.  Somewhere along the way I decided that people did not mean to hurt me.  They just have no idea what to say.  Sometimes they just say whatever comes to mind first.  Or, they try to relate to Jake and/or Sawyer’s deaths with an experience of their own – or something that happened to their neighbor’s 2nd cousin.

I try to believe that people always have the best intentions no matter what actually comes out of their mouths.

I will confess, at times I have wished for a taser to silence people before they say stupid things. 

Thank you to Tiffany and Mary for posting this video because it pretty much says it all.

Memorials, Mickey & Moments

January 8, 2012 at 10:36 pm | Posted in Grief, life after loss, Love, silver lining, twins | 12 Comments
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This week was Sawyer’s yahrzeit, the anniversary of the Hebrew date he died.  Evan and I lit a candle and said Kaddish (the prayer recited to honor the memory of those who have died).  My mom recently emailed me an article titled “Memory is a Blessing” which discusses the prayer. 

It is the responsibility of the Kaddish – the mourner – to keep alive the memory of the person who has died, to not forget and not to let others forget. . . .

Recite the prayer for him – yes – but also to remember – even if it hurts, even if it brings tears. To “be the Kaddish” is to be willing to talk about the person who has died, to tell stories and share memories even when it makes others uncomfortable.

During Sawyer’s yahrzeit, my parents so happened to take our family away on a vacation.  I am so thankful to my parents for such a wonderful trip. 

However, as a bereaved parent it feels wrong at times to have fun while also trying to grieve.  I know that I am alive and Sawyer is not.  It is complicated.  I want to be happy and live with the twins while honoring Sawyer and Jake. 

It is bittersweet. 

Here is some of the sweetness:

 

And here is some more:

And although Sawyer and Jake were not physically there they have left us their own sweetness.

By love they are remembered, and in memory they live. . .
Even when they are gone, the departed are with us. . .
We remember them now; they live in our hearts. . .
                                                                                          Rabbi Hannah Orden

 

My New Not so Normal

December 30, 2011 at 11:40 am | Posted in Grief, life after loss, normal?, silver lining | 8 Comments
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In three words I can sum up every-
thing I’ve learned about life.
It goes on.  ~Robert Frost

I am not the same person that I was before 2005 – before Jake died.

I went to where I thought was the deepest darkest place in my life.  Then there came a day when I realized that I was still alive and I needed to figure out how to live in a world without Jake.

I called it my new normal.

I tried every day to just live.  I went to work.  I tried to interact with the rest of the world.  When the twins were born my normal life revolved around them and their routine.

I have never gotten “over” Jake but I thought my new normal was working.

Until Sawyer died.  My new normal was thrown a devastating curve ball.

There is nothing normal about 1 child dying let alone 2.   I am now attempting to live my new not so normal.

This new not so normal is not easy for anyone.  It is hard for Evan.   Family and friends suffer the loss of Jake and Sawyer as well as their own challenges and losses in life.  All I can do is try my best every day to live this new not so normal life.

I often repeat to myself a phrase that my high school track coach would yell after us as we ran, “whatever does not kill you will make you stronger.”

Angels

December 28, 2011 at 11:44 am | Posted in Grief, Love, silver lining, twins | 11 Comments
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No words today – just pictures from the past year.

Muddy Snow Angel

Snow Angel in Action

Rug Angel

Bath Angels

Grass Angel

Another Grass Angel

Rock Garden Angel

Rock Garden Angel #2

Leaf Angel

Airport Floor Angel (yuck!)

Stuffed Animal Angel

Stuffed Animal Angel #2

Missing Angel

Okay – the last picture is not from 2011.  We wish we had pictures from this past year of Jake and Sawyer.

So this is Christmas

December 24, 2011 at 11:58 pm | Posted in Grief, Love | 13 Comments
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This is such a festive time of year.  You can feel the happiness in the air.  I want to wish everyone happy holidays but I may never send another holiday card again.  I try in my own way.  I do not always succeed.

I cannot figure out why anniversaries and holidays are harder.  Every day Jake and Sawyer are gone.  We are Jewish so Christmas should not be difficult except for the fact that it is also the anniversary of Sawyer’s death.  No one is sure what time Sawyer really died.  His death certificate says 4:30 am on December 26th.  I believe he was gone before then but it does not really matter what time or place he died.  It just matters that he did die.  At times I fixate on the details and information I can understand to balance what I will never comprehend.

The last time I held him was at 10:45 pm on Christmas night.  He was on the floor of our bedroom at 2:46 am on December 26th.  The paramedics, the firemen and the police were there.  No one would let me get close to Sawyer.  In the ambulance I could not sit in the back with him.  I sat up front feeling helpless and alone.  Two years later I still feel helpless and alone.

I have hope and even joy but there is always something (someone) missing.

No matter what I do December 26th will come.  I cannot make time stand still.  I do not want to be any farther away from Sawyer than I already am but it will happen.

I wish I could go somewhere far away from our bedroom floor.  I cannot run or hide.  No matter where I go my grief goes too.  I will keep very busy.  I will be the best mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend and person that I can be.  Again, I will not always succeed.  I will have hope.  I will wait until I can hold Sawyer again.

For some moments in life there are no words.
~David Seltzer, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Tear Soup

December 20, 2011 at 11:10 pm | Posted in Grief, silver lining | 8 Comments
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After Jake died many people gave us books to read about death and grief.  I could not read any of them for a long time.  I was searching for steps to get through the grief.  The first book I managed to read was Tear Soup by Pat Schwiebert and Chuck Deklyen.  There are a lot of pictures and the story is simple.  The book does not provide the “steps” I was looking for but it did help me.

The main character is Grandy, a wise old woman.  She has suffered a big loss but the exact nature of the loss is not mentioned.  She goes into her kitchen and cooks a batch of Tear Soup.  The soup is made of memories and lots of tears.  She cooks the soup throughout the book.  She never really finishes cooking the soup but she does put some of it into the refrigerator to take out at a later time.

At the end of the book there are tips for the cook.  I thought I would share a few of them:

• Grief is the process you go through as you adjust to the loss of anything or anyone important in your life.

 • The loss of a job, a move, divorce, death of someone you love, or a change in health status are just a few of the situations that can cause grief.  

• Grief is both physically and emotionally exhausting.  It is also irrational and unpredictable and can shake your very foundation. 

• The amount of “work” your grief requires will depend on your life experiences, the type of loss, and whatever else you have on your plate at that time.

• A sudden, unexpected loss is usually more traumatic, more disruptive and requires more time to adjust to. 

• You may lose trust in your own ability to make decisions and/or to trust others. 

• Assumptions about fairness, life order, and religious beliefs are often challenged. 

• Seasons, with their colors and climate, can also take you back to that moment in time when your world stood still. 

• You may sense you have no control in your life .

.• Being at work may provide a relief from your grief, but as soon as you get in the car and start driving home you may find your grief come flooding back. 

• You may find that you are incapable of functioning in the work environment for a short while. 

• Because grief is distracting it also means you are more accident-prone. 

• The object of grieving is not to get over the loss or recover from the loss but to get through the loss. 

• Over the years you will look back and discover that this grief keeps teaching you new things about life.  Your understanding of life will just keep going deeper.

These days between Sawyer’s birthday and the day he died are difficult.  I try to look back at what helped me in the past and hope that it will get me through these dark days.

“It is always darkest before the dawn.”  Proverb

Somewhere over the Rainbow

December 14, 2011 at 11:22 am | Posted in Grief, Love, silver lining, twins | 11 Comments
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The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.  – Dolly Parton

A “rainbow baby” is a baby born following the death of your child.  Urban Dictionary defines a rainbow baby as the following:

“In the real world, a beautiful and bright rainbow follows a storm and gives hope of things getting better. The rainbow is more appreciated having just experienced the storm in comparison.

The storm (pregnancy/child loss) has already happened and nothing can change that experience. Storm clouds might still be overhead as the family continues to cope with the loss, but something colorful and bright has emerged from the darkness and misery.”

After Jake died Evan and I both knew that we wanted to try to become parents again.  I mistakenly thought that after your child dies you should get some sort of “get a baby free pass”.  There was no pass for us.  When we did start trying again we found ourselves on the roller coaster of infertility.  We started with cycles of injectables.  We moved onto 6 rounds of IUI’s (think turkey baster if you are not familiar with this term).  Finally after 2 IVF cycles we were so very lucky to have our own rainbow babies in July of 2007.

In the fall of 2009 we once again had a rainbow baby.

Who knew another storm would come so soon?  I am trying to learn from the twins how to look for rainbows everywhere.  Some days it is harder than others to find any light through the darkness.  The twins are pretty good teachers because the other day I looked out of the office building where I was working and this is what I saw. . .

After a hurricane comes a rainbow – Katy Perry

I just miss you

December 6, 2011 at 10:35 pm | Posted in Anniversaries, Grief, Love, mourning | 12 Comments
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Dear Sawyer,
It is me.  Are you there?  I know that I wrote a few weeks ago that I could handle the holidays.   I was wrong.  The dark days are back.  It is part of the deal.  This new normal life that I have been trying to create includes dark days.  They creep up.  I expect these days between your birthday and the day that you died to be hard.  I try to lower my expectations of what I can handle.  I wish the rest of the world would do the same.

I try to keep myself so busy that I cannot think.   It is not working this time.  So I try to act as if everything is okay.  Most of the time I can fake it till I almost believe myself that life without you and Jake is perfectly fine.  I cannot pretend.  Life without you and Jake is not okay.   

My arms physically ache to hold you.  Every day that passes is another day farther from when you were last with me.  When I hear other babies cry I can still tell that it is not your cry.  Will the day come when I have forgotten the sound of your cry?

We have given away or packed up most of your things.  We just cannot seem to go through the last few piles.  The gifts that were sent to you the week you died.  The clothes you wore that last few days of your life.  The condolence cards.  Your death certificate.  The cards of the police detectives.  They are all still here.   I wish that you were here too.

I do not want pity.  I want you.  I am just sad.  Life without you and Jake is so excruciatingly painful and bittersweet.  I know that there is still light.  I see it every time I look at your big brother and sister.

I just miss you. I will see you in my dreams sweet Sawyer.

The Club

November 28, 2011 at 9:06 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, parents | 12 Comments
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There is a club that Evan and I have joined.  Not many people talk about it although many have written about it.  There are no dues for this club – at least not monetary ones.  I have no idea how large the club is in numbers.  There are no rules.  No board members.  Unlike most clubs no one actually wants to join this one.

It is a club whose only members are parents who have outlived their children.

Evan and I first joined in 2005 when Jake died.  There are acronyms like “BLM” (baby loss mother) and “BLF” (baby loss father) that I now find to be very common terms.  Membership in this club has taught me that there are no rules to living when your child has died.  You have to do whatever it takes to get you through the day and to survive.  The tools that I used to rely on to live no longer always help me.

I realize now that this club is made up of parents from every religion, class and country.  There is a good chance that some of your neighbors belong to this club.  I thought we already had a lifetime membership but our places in the club were once again secured when Sawyer died.

“Do not judge bereaved parents.
They come in many forms.
They are breathing, but they are dying.
They may look young, but inside they have become ancient.

They smile, but their hearts sob.
They walk, they talk, they cook, they clean, they work,
they are, but they ARE NOT, all at once.
They are here, but part of them is elsewhere for eternity.”
                                                                                                –Author Unknown

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