My New Not so Normal
December 30, 2011 at 11:40 am | Posted in Grief, life after loss, normal?, silver lining | 8 CommentsTags: acting, child loss, dark days, hope, Jake, new not so normal, perspective, Sawyer, unexplainable
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.”
So this is Christmas
December 24, 2011 at 11:58 pm | Posted in Grief, Love | 13 CommentsTags: Jake, life after loss, new not so normal, Sad, Sawyer, unexplainable
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
Dancing Dreidels
December 16, 2011 at 4:00 pm | Posted in Grief, Love, silver lining, twins | 14 CommentsTags: child loss, Jewish customs, new not so normal, parenthood, Sawyer, twins
Today the twins performed in their preschool holiday show. The first class to come out featured one of our singing candles:
Our other singing candle came out later with her class:
The younger 2-year-old class performed as dancing dreidels. The class seemed like it was missing someone. I could almost see the place where Sawyer should have been standing. I looked around the room to see if anyone else noticed. The moms who were pregnant at the same time I was pregnant with Sawyer were busy taking pictures of their adorable children.
I squeezed Evan’s hand and whispered, “this should be Sawyer’s class. . . ” Evan said, “I know.” Sawyer should be up on the stage too. I did not think anyone else noticed his absence.
I was wrong.
As we were leaving, the twins were piling all their papers and endless other accessories into my arms. I was trying to hold everything along with the balloons they each had been given. I accidentally let one go. I braced myself for the cries to retrieve the balloon. Instead they said, “Sawyer likes blue, that balloon is for him. Let the other balloon go too! The other balloon is for Jake.”
And so I let it go.
Somewhere over the Rainbow
December 14, 2011 at 11:22 am | Posted in Grief, Love, silver lining, twins | 11 CommentsTags: hope, infertility, Jake, new not so normal, rainbows, Sawyer
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 CommentsTags: acting, child loss, dark days, holidays, Jake, life after loss, new not so normal, Sawyer, twins, unexplainable
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.
Perspective
December 4, 2011 at 11:52 pm | Posted in Grief, Love, mourning, parents | 7 CommentsTags: cancer, child loss, family, new not so normal, parenthood, perspective
We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are.
– Talmud
As a child my parents explained that I was named in memory of my Great Aunt Edith while my brother was named in memory of my mother’s first cousin, Mitchell. In my mind I rationalized that my great-aunt (my grandmother’s sister) was older and her death was more understandable. Mitchell, on the other hand, died young. I could not make sense of this as a child. It was so terribly sad that Mitchell did not live past his teenage years. I thought about Mitchell’s living brother and how it must feel to be the sibling left behind.
After Jake died my perspective changed. I knew Mitchell’s death was of course sad for his brother, but I had never thought about how it impacted Mitchell’s parents, my Aunt Sophie and Uncle George. They took care of Mitchell. They had to watch him die from Leukemia. The helplessness they must have felt. The lost hopes and dreams. They were members of the bereaved parent’s club long before I was ever born.
I was very close to my Aunt Sophie (my grandfather’s younger sister). She and my Uncle George did not have grandchildren. Mitchell had died young and his brother was not yet married. I realized this at the age of 8 and decided that did not seem fair. My grandparents had 5 grandchildren. In my child’s mind I felt like there was something missing for my Aunt Sophie and Uncle George.
My 8-year-old solution was to volunteer to be an “adopted grandchild” to my Aunt Sophie and Uncle George. First, I called my grandparents and asked them if it would be okay. They said yes. Next, I called my Aunt Sophie and Uncle George and they agreed as well. Finally, I drafted the “adoption papers.” It all seemed so simple at the time. Now as a bereaved parent myself I realize that there is nothing simple about the death of your child.
We could never learn to be brave and patient if there were only joy in the world.
– Helen Keller
The Club
November 28, 2011 at 9:06 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, mourning, parents | 12 CommentsTags: child loss, Jake, life after loss, new not so normal, Sawyer, unexplainable
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
Thankful
November 24, 2011 at 10:58 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, parents, twins | 12 CommentsTags: child loss, gratitude, holidays, hope, infertility, new not so normal, Sawyer, twins
I looked back at my post from last Thanksgiving. In some ways I have come a long way. In other ways not so much. I wanted to cancel the entire holiday season last year. It was the holiday season where Sawyer should have been turning 1. I could not understand how everyone was just going along being happy and celebrating. I felt the same way the holiday season after Jake died. I avoided any and all holiday parties. I could not pretend to go through the motions. I desperately wanted to scream, cry and run to some place where Jake and Sawyer were with me.
No matter what I do the world keeps on going without Jake and without Sawyer. This year Evan and I tried to return to our holiday plan from years past. The first years of our marriage we tried to see all 3 sets of our parents. We even forced ourselves to go the year that Jake died. The next year we had to stay in town because we had gotten onto the infertility rollercoaster.
We did somehow manage to get ourselves back on the visiting all 3 sets of family schedule once the twins were born. I am still not quite sure how we pulled that off with 3 month old twins. In 2009 Sawyer was born the third week of November. We came home from the hospital the week of Thanksgiving. Needless to say we stayed home that year.
I have a brilliant friend who came up with the fantastic plan to celebrate Thanksgiving early with her family. No travel, no stress. We have not found that happy Thanksgiving place yet. Maybe we never will. We will keep trying. I will continue to be so very thankful for our families and friends and to hold on tight to what I can. Happy Thanksgiving to you all!
Yesterday
November 18, 2011 at 9:58 pm | Posted in Anniversaries, Grief, NICU, silver lining | 3 CommentsTags: gratitude, grief, hope, March of Dimes, new not so normal, premature birth
Sometimes I get so caught up in my own story that I miss the rest of the bigger story of the world out there. Yesterday was Sawyer’s birthday. It was also World Prematurity Day. Thank you to Evan for telling me in the first place and to Jessica for reminding me.
November is also Prematurity Awareness Month. Did you know that in the U.S., 1 in 8 babies is born prematurely and worldwide 13 million babies are born too soon each year (statistics from the March of Dimes)? 3 of our 4 children were born premature. So many of my friends’ children spent time in the NICU. If you would like to please comment with who you know who was/is in the NICU.
Another thing happening in the world yesterday was that EC Stilson released her book “The Golden Sky.” She wrote about the life and death of her son Zeke. His birthday would have been today. In honor of Zeke and her book EC had a blogfest. She graciously asked me to participate. I confess that I tried but could not figure out how to post the button.
Today I still have my story but I am also joining the rest of the bigger world’s story. Hopefully, one day I too will find that “after every storm, there is a golden sky” (EC Stilson).
Sweet Sawyer
November 17, 2011 at 7:48 am | Posted in Anniversaries, Grief, silver lining, Time | 24 CommentsTags: child loss, life after loss, new not so normal, Sawyer, SUIDS, unexplainable
Sawyer
Dear Sawyer,
No matter what I do the days keep going by me. Today you would have been 2! It is so hard for me to believe that you would no longer be a baby. I close my eyes and try so hard to imagine you as a toddler. I only see your big baby eyes staring at me. I wish I could see you grow up. I cannot even put into words how much I want to hold you, hug you and sing happy birthday to you.
We will sing. Your birthday and you will not be forgotten. Not today, not ever. Your daddy and I will go to the cemetery. Your big sister and (one of) your big brother(s) will sing to you too. Maybe we will buy some balloons or a cupcake.
I will try to keep myself really busy. I know you already know this but ever since you died (maybe even since Jake died) I have to be very busy. It is like I am afraid that if I have too much time to think about it my brain will finally realize that you are gone. And you are not coming back.
I have so many things that I want to ask you:
Where are you?
Are you ok?
Do you know how much you are loved and missed?
Will I ever get a chance to hold you again?
There will be no answers. I will not see you grow up. I will be forever thankful that you chose us to be your parents. I cherish the nearly 6 weeks we were lucky to spend with you. I will always look for ways to carry on your purpose in this life. I will celebrate your bittersweet 2nd birthday. And as always, I will look for you in my dreams.
Sweet Sawyer, I love you and miss you. Happy Birthday baby boy!
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