Sawyer’s Story: The Funeral
December 28, 2013 at 11:02 pm | Posted in funeral, Grief | 8 CommentsTags: baby loss, child loss, dark days, death of a baby, fathers, Funeral, post traumatic stress disorder, Sawyer
Four years ago today was Sawyer’s funeral. I still cannot believe that Evan and I have lived through 2 of our children’s funerals. Most of those days are a big blur and what I do remember was that everything seemed so surreal. I had trouble putting sentences together.
Evan, on the other hand, wrote speeches for Jake and then again 4 years later for Sawyer. I am still amazed and thankful that Evan was able to think and write clearly enough for both of us.
My brother read what Evan wrote at Jake’s funeral. Below is what Evan read at Sawyer’s funeral:
Our son Sawyer is perfect. We know all parents feel that way about their children, and they should. We feel that way about our first son Jake, our twins Fletcher and Alyssa, and about Sawyer. But it’s not just a feeling. We know it. Sawyer is and always will be perfect. He has been perfect from the first moment we met him. Yes, he was also sweet, and adorable, and soft, and cuddly, and wonderful. But above all else, he was perfect. A perfect son. A perfect little brother.
We don’t know why we only got 40 days with Sawyer. We were supposed to have 40 years or more. 40 days makes no sense, and likely never will. We don’t know why that happened, but what we do know is how much we love Sawyer. We know how much we miss him and how much are hearts ache not being able to hold him and kiss him and care for him the way we were supposed to be able to do. 40 days – even the 40 wonderful days we had with him – is not enough. Not even close.
But, we’re going to treasure every memory from those 40 days. The first moment we saw him at the hospital. The first time we each held him. The first time we fed him and changed him and swaddled him. The first time we took him home and introduced him to the twins. The first time he smiled at us (even though it was probably just gas). The first time we got to tell every one of you about him and positively beamed with pride in getting to do so. We will hold onto each of those firsts – and every other moment after them that we had with Sawyer. We’ll remember every time we just sat and stared at him and marveled at how perfect he was and how amazing it was that we could make something – someone – so perfect.
We thank you all for being here this morning to help us get through this day with your love, friendship and support. We thank you for all that so many of you have already done, your words of love and kindness, and your helping hands. And we thank you for all that you will do to help as we try to figure out how to go on without having all those “firsts” we were supposed to have with Sawyer over the days, weeks, months and years to come. We welcome you back to our house after the service today, so that we can attempt to start to thank you in person and thank you for loving Sawyer with us.
There is comfort in knowing that Sawyer’s big brother Jake will be with him now. So will Grandmother and Aunt Sophie – Sawyer’s namesake who also had to grieve for a lost son – and his other great grandparents and loved ones who passed before him. We know he’s in good hands – it’s just that they are not the hands he is supposed to be in yet. He is supposed to be in our hands. But instead, our hands shake because we can’t touch him. Our arms ache because we can’t hold him. Our hearts break because he is gone after only 40 days. But even as we cannot understand or believe any of this, we want you to know, Sawyer, that we love you. Truly, deeply, forever, we love you. And no matter what Sawyer, you are perfect. You are perfect. You are perfect.
When the Walls Come Tumbling Down
August 26, 2013 at 6:14 pm | Posted in Grief, Jake, life after loss, Love | 4 CommentsTags: baby loss, child loss, death of a baby, Elisabeth Kübler Ross', Jake, new not so normal, old house, perspective, post traumatic stress disorder, premature birth
As I wrote about here, the house where I was pregnant with Jake was sold a few months ago. We had a room for Jake in that house but he never came home to it. There was a time after Jake died that I had such anger towards that room. I wanted to renovate it, destroy it or at least move far, far away from it.
My anger was not rational but it seemed very real to me at the time. Along with denial, bargaining, depression and acceptance; anger is one of Elisabeth Kübler Ross’ 5 stages of grief. I guess I did not have any one to be angry with so why not get mad at a room painted baby blue? So, when we sold that house we knew that it would most likely be torn down. The other day, it looked like this:
The next day when I drove by, all that was left was this:
It is just Jake’s room.
Now the whole house is gone, but Jake will never be forgotten. We love you Jake.
Family Medical Leave Act
June 18, 2013 at 4:44 pm | Posted in after death?, Grief, Jake, life after loss, Love, Sawyer | 4 CommentsTags: child loss, death of a baby, Family Medical Leave Act (FMLA), life after loss, new not so normal, Parental Bereavement Act (Farley-Kluger Initiative), post traumatic stress disorder, thoughts
According to the US Department of Labor the Family Medical Leave Act of 1993 (FMLA):
“Entitles eligible employees of covered employers to take unpaid, job-protected leave for specified family and medical reasons with continuation of group health insurance coverage under the same terms and conditions as if the employee had not taken leave. Eligible employees are entitled to (among other things):
- Twelve work weeks of leave in a 12-month period for:
- the birth of a child and to care for the newborn child within one year of birth;
- the placement with the employee of a child for adoption or foster care and to care for the newly placed child within one year of placement;
- to care for the employee’s spouse, child, or parent who has a serious health condition;
- a serious health condition that makes the employee unable to perform the essential functions of his or her job
The problem is once the family member dies there are often little or no benefits. When Jake died I had a c-section and could not return to work for 6 weeks. The ironic thing was that after he died all I wanted to do was go back to work because being on maternity leave with no baby was beyond awful for me. Evan’s work was extremely understanding and kind. He ended up missing about a month of work – the 2 weeks Jake was alive and then the 2 weeks after his death.
When Sawyer suddenly died Evan again missed 2 weeks of work. Again, we were very fortunate that his work was so understanding. I know that is not always the case. Dealing with the death of your child and the stress of an employer not giving you time off is too much for anyone.
Bereaved father, Kelly Farley, is taking action to fix this issue. He has created the Parental Bereavement Act (Farley-Kluger Initiative). It is a petition to modify the existing Family Medical Leave Act. The objective of Petition is the following:
“Modify existing FMLA to expand coverage and existing benefits to employees that have experienced the death of a child.”
If you would like to support this modification of the FMLA please click this link to sign the e-petition. I have already signed it!
Hasta Luego House and Hair
June 2, 2013 at 11:48 am | Posted in Grief, life after loss, Love, normal? | 7 CommentsTags: child loss, death of a baby, hope, Jake, life after loss, new not so normal, perspective, post traumatic stress disorder
“How would this do: and they all settled down and lived together
happily ever after?’
‘It will do well, if it ever comes to that,’ said Frodo.
‘Ah!’ said Sam. ‘And where will they live? That’s what I often wonder.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
I wrote about our old house in this post. We had been renting it since we moved in 2007. It was not the plan to rent it all this time but as my grandfather used to say “people make plans and G-d laughs.” And, there was the real estate market crashing. . .
Last week we sold the house. Before the closing I went in to walk around. I stood in what was supposed to be Jake’s room. The once baby blue walls are now whitish. The room was empty. No tears filled my eyes as I entered. Jake was not there. I did not really think that he would be – I know that he is with me where ever I go. The address does not matter.
Completely unrelated (except for the fact that it also happened last week), I donated my hair for the 4th time to Pantene’s Beautiful Lengths. So far, “Pantene has donated 24,000 free real-hair wigs” to cancer patients throughout the country. It takes 6 donations to make 1 wig. So, I have officially donated 2/3 of 1 wig.
No words
December 18, 2012 at 11:44 pm | Posted in Grief, life lessons, Love, mourning | 6 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, family, Gandhi, Newtown, post traumatic stress disorder, tragedy, unexplainable
Every morning since Friday I have woken up hoping that the senseless deaths in Newtown were a horrific nightmare. After Jake’s and Sawyer’s deaths I had similar experiences. The moments before I was fully awake everything seemed alright in the world. And then an instant later it shattered. Reality. And, the world seems as if it is forever broken.
There are so many families left behind. New members of the club. Filled with endless questions. Why? How? Guns? G-d? There are no answers that will bring them back. The 20 children will never grow up. The families will be missing pieces for eternity.
I so wish I had the right words but since I do not, I will again borrow wisdom from Gandhi.
Elections & Explanations
November 8, 2012 at 10:22 pm | Posted in after death?, Grief, Love, normal? | 13 CommentsTags: child loss, death of a baby, hope, Mayo Clinic, new not so normal, post traumatic stress disorder, Sawyer, thoughts, unexplainable, unknown
Dear Sawyer,
Your sister has big plans! She would change the colors of the rainbow if she were elected president (just in case you cannot read her handwriting). Hopefully, if she does decide to run for president she will first brush her hair. I will not list all changes I would make. But if I did make a list, the first thing would be to find the cure for whatever took you away from us.
I try not to think about it but I still cannot believe that we do not know your cause of death. The first weeks and months after you died I could not think of anything else. I went over and over in my mind what could have possibly happened. I looked for more information everywhere. I thought if there was some logical explanation perhaps I could understand. No medical explanation has been found. I have tucked away the search for your cause of death. I will never forget or stop wanting answers. I just cannot let myself go there very often. We may never know why your heart just stopped. Even if we did, it would not bring you back. And, that is what I want most of all.
I still hold out hope that one day the study that you are part of at the Mayo Clinic will find something. Anything.
Time is moving forward, as it always does. I am not sure how it is possible but your 3rd birthday will soon be here. I do not want it to be another November 17th without you. I know there is no other option for me. Your birthday will come and go. We will not watch you eat your birthday cake. We will not take pictures of you opening gifts. Or hug you. . .
I will now put away that part of me that cannot stop obsessing about your unknown cause of death. I hope that where ever you are you know how much you are loved and missed.
Lost Girl?
November 2, 2012 at 10:22 pm | Posted in after death?, Grief, life after loss, normal? | 5 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death of a baby, Jake, new not so normal, post traumatic stress disorder, Sawyer, thoughts, twins, unexplainable
In my younger (pre-children days) I loved to travel. My parents took my brother and me on all kinds of exciting adventures. I was an exchange student in Finland for a summer. I spent a semester in Madrid. My first jobs at times required extensive travel. I was always happy to explore a new city.
In August of 2005, I held Jake,our first son, as he took his last breaths and a part of me died with him. My love for travel was buried with Jake. I could no longer be alone in my house let alone a hotel room in a far away city. Even driving alone in my car was excruciatingly painful for me.
The twins’ birth brought me happiness that I did not think I could/would ever experience again. However, that part of me that died with Jake was still gone. Travel now seemed out of the question. I did not want to let the twins out of my sight. I was no longer alone in the house or the car.
When Sawyer died so unexpectedly my ability to be alone vanished again. The 3 hours twice a week when the twins were in preschool seemed like an eternity to me. For awhile I could not even shower unless other people were in the house.
I do not think I will ever be the person that I was before Jake and Sawyer died. At times I do wonder if that person who loved to travel and see the world is still out there somewhere. . .
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.
Miscarriage
May 28, 2012 at 10:28 pm | Posted in Grief, life after loss, normal?, pregnancy | 18 CommentsTags: bed rest, child loss, death of a baby, grief, hope, miscarriage, mom, perspective, post traumatic stress disorder, Sad
The doctor who told me that I was most likely having a miscarriage put me on bed rest for a few days. Bed rest for me equals time where my thoughts can take over any rational part of my brain and run wild. Bed rest means that I can not resort to my usual defense of keeping so busy that I do not have time to think.
I cried on the couch as I watched the twins play. I was so lucky that my mom was able to come to town. I told her that she did not need to come. I knew by the time I spoke to her that no amount of bed rest was going to help. She said she wanted to come anyway. I did not argue.
I thought writing about it in my last post would somehow help. I reread my post and it turns out that I did not actually write what happened. So here it is, I had a miscarriage.
I will be fine. I will continue to get up and live just as I have every day, week, month and now years since Jake and Sawyer have died.
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.”
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