Burritos, Buddha & Baggage
September 30, 2011 at 11:20 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, silver lining, twins | 7 CommentsTags: Buddha, death, grandparents, gratitude, grief, Jake, life after loss, Sawyer, siblings, twins, unexplainable, yoga
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 CommentsTags: death, life after loss, Sawyer, unexplainable
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.
Unknown & Unchanged
September 8, 2011 at 9:24 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning | 17 CommentsTags: CHD, grief, life after loss, Sawyer, SUIDS, unexplainable
Nothing has changed. If you had spoken to me (or I had written) yesterday everything would basically be the same. Jake and Sawyer died. The twins are healthy. However, today we received an email from Sawyer’s pathologist. We have waited for over a year for the results of the Mayo clinic study which Sawyer is a part of. The study tests for cardiac channelopathies, such as long QT.
Sawyer’s doctor wrote, “none of the genetic-DNA mutations that are known to be associated with/responsible for abnormal heart rhythms has been identified in Sawyer.”
I always knew the study might be inconclusive. However, I hoped that there would be some sort of medical answer. An answer that could somehow help me rationalize and comprehend Sawyer’s death. If there was some known medical condition we could have the twins tested for it. As of now there is no answer. Maybe there never will be. No one ever promised that life would make sense.
The cause of Sawyer’s death is unknown. The facts are the same as they were yesterday. Nothing has changed or has it?
August & Awkward Appointments (part 2)
August 18, 2011 at 11:48 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, pregnancy, silver lining, twins | 7 CommentsTags: child loss, grief, Jake, life after loss, parenthood, Sawyer
As I wrote about previously in this post, doctor’s appointments can at times be awkward. I am not a big fan of the forms that you have to fill out about your medical history. I understand why they are necessary but I truly dislike listing the birth and death dates of Jake and Sawyer. The OB forms do not even have enough lines for me to write all of the complications before and after pregnancy that we have had. I am sure one day these forms will not bother me but today they do.
The twins had their 4-year-old check up today. A new nurse came to get us from the waiting room. As she brought us into the room she asked me, “Are you expecting company?” I looked at the twins and Evan and thought to myself, “how many more people can we fit in this tiny exam room?” And, who else would I be expecting? Then the nurse looked at my stomach and repeated the question. My quizzical look turned to horror. Really, is she really asking me if I am pregnant? Yes, she did.
That question is emotion-packed. The times when I answered yes to that question – thoughts of being pregnant with Jake, the twins and Sawyer. The realization that my stomach apparently still has a pregnancy pouch. Or, maybe I just made an unfortunate outfit choice.
The nurse was reading over our medical charts as my mind was still racing. I could see in her eyes that she had just read about Sawyer, Jake or maybe both. She looked at me and apologizes.
Overall the day was a success. One outfit for Good Will. Two healthy twins. Three weeks down in August. Four beautiful children.
Sawyer’s Sock
August 4, 2011 at 9:48 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning | 6 CommentsTags: child loss, death, life after loss, Sawyer
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 . . .
Beaches & Bad Questions
July 24, 2011 at 10:36 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, parents, twins | 3 CommentsTags: death, happy, Jake, life after loss, parenthood, Sawyer
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. . .
Hospitals, Hernias & Holidays
July 2, 2011 at 11:32 pm | Posted in emergency room, Grief, hospital, parents, twins | 10 CommentsTags: fathers, hernia, Jake, motherhood, Sawyer, twins
Yesterday I called Evan and told him to come home immediately. As I hung up the phone, I questioned if I overreacted. We had been at a close friend’s house playing. All was normal except when we left one twin ran to the car and the other was dragging his left foot. I asked if he wanted me to pick him up. It is not unusual for him to get tired and ask to be carried. However, when I picked him up he screamed to be put down.
Finally I got everybody in the car. As I drove I thought maybe he was having an allergic reaction. Maybe he could not walk because his feet were swollen. Or maybe his shoes were too small and he needed new shoes. I opted to stop at CVS rather than the shoe store. At this point, they both were screaming. She wanted ice cream. He wanted to sit down. After buying Benadryl, 2 toy cars and frozen yogurt to go, we were back in the car. I made the call to Evan. One of us needed to take him to the doctor.
At home I stripped him down to look for hives. He was very swollen in his groin area. Evan got home and took him to the after hours pediatric urgent care. I fully expected a call telling me there was an unexplainable allergic reaction (like many others in the past) and the hives would be gone in the morning.
Instead Evan called to tell me that he was on his way to the ER. The hive was actually a hernia. I needed to go to the ER. Luckily, I was able to drop off the well twin back at our friend’s house. Thank you again!!
I got to the ER just in time for the ultrasound. He screamed, cried and begged (politely) for the ultrasound technician to please stop. Evan and I held him down. Ok, Evan held him down. I had to go cry in the hall.
After the ultrasound we waited to speak to the surgeon. While waiting, I went to the bathroom. The bathroom was right across from this hospital’s “consult room.” The “consult room” was where Evan and I held Jake for the last time. It was where we were when the ER doctor told us that Sawyer was dead. They were different “consult rooms,” in different hospitals but they looked the same. Standard issue plastic couch and chair. Generic flowery art. Striped carpet.
As I reached the door of our ER room I looked through the glass panel of the door. Evan was holding hands with our very much alive son. I thought of the glass partition which Alice Wisler so insightfully used to describe bereaved parent’s desire to be so close and so distant from their living children. I walked back into the room.
The surgeon arrived. He originally said that we would be checked in and surgery would be the next morning. An hour or so later, we were told that due to life threatening cases and the holiday weekend we would need to go home. We were discharged early this morning. Surgery will be scheduled for this week. I am going to kiss the twins one more time right now.
There is no place like home
June 28, 2011 at 11:18 pm | Posted in Grief | 3 CommentsTags: child loss, Jake, life after loss, Sawyer
“It always amazes me to think that every house on every street is full of so many stories;
so many triumphs and tragedies, and all we see are yards and driveways.” Glenn Close
Evan and I bought our first house the year we got married. It was a 3 bedroom house. Our bedroom, a guest bedroom and what we hoped would be a baby’s room. Jake, our first-born, never came home. However, during the time I was pregnant and while Jake was alive, we referred to the 3rd bedroom as Jake’s room.
After Jake died, I was not able to go into the room. I shut the door. I desperately wanted to move or renovate the house so that Jake’s room no longer existed. I cannot explain my anger toward the house but it was very real. Evan and I started to look for houses with a real estate agent.
Luckily, someone wisely advised us not to make any major life changes for at least 6 months to a year after Jake’s death. We stopped the house search for the time being.
Eighteen months later when we found out that we were expecting the twins my need to move resurfaced. I did not want the twins to sleep in Jake’s room. Once again, we started the house search. We had a contract on one house and it fell through. I resigned myself to staying in our house.
Miraculously, we found another house when I was 8 months pregnant. Everything fell into place. We moved up the street from our old house. Whatever bad house karma was there I was convinced we were leaving it behind us. The twins came home from the hospital to their own room. Jake’s room was still down the street.
Fast forward to the November, 2009 – Sawyer came home. The night of December 25 he went to sleep in his room. At 2:46 am on December 26th the paramedics were performing CPR on Sawyer on our bedroom floor. We are still not sure but it is very possible that Sawyer died in our house that night.
So after leaving one house where Jake had a room which he never slept in, we now live in another house where Sawyer came home, lived for nearly 6 weeks and died. Funny (or maybe not so funny) how life works. I am not angry at the house this time. It does not matter where I live – my memories of Jake and Sawyer will always move with me.
My Real World
June 22, 2011 at 11:02 pm | Posted in Grief, mourning, silver lining, twins | 3 CommentsTags: child loss, hope, Jake, life after loss, Sawyer, twins
“Out of clutter find simplicity; From discord find harmony;
In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.”
– Albert Einstein
Some mornings I wake up and have to remind myself of my reality. Is it true I have out lived 2 of our children? Was Jake really born 14 weeks early? Was Sawyer just a brief wonderful figment of my imagination? After the morning fog clears I know with unnerving certainty that they are both dead and I am alive.
People tell me (and I remind myself) how lucky I am to have the twins. Which of your children would you live without? Why can I not wake up in the morning with all 4 of my children?
I get up and face the day. I try my best to focus on my simplicity, my harmony and my opportunity:
Confessions
June 10, 2011 at 1:23 pm | Posted in Grief, mother, mourning, silver lining, traditions, twins | 5 CommentsTags: child loss, grandparents, hope, Jake, Sawyer, twins
When I was young I loved to travel. I would travel whenever I could for work or fun. After Jake died my desire to travel was gone. I wanted to stay home so I could visit the cemetery.
I have met a few other people while visiting the cemetery. One grandfather visits his grandson’s grave every day. He also takes care of the family plot. Year round he is out there cleaning the headstone, cutting the grass and maintaining the plot. Although I no longer go every day, I frequently want to go to the cemetery.
One day I spoke to the grandfather about visiting the cemetery. He said that it helps him to take care of the plot and visit every day. I 100% understand and relate to being drawn to the cemetery. However, I wanted to know how he felt if he ever missed a day. He is from the area and his whole family lives within a few minutes of the cemetery. He has not missed a day since his grandson died over 3 years ago. I think it is great that he has found a way to comfort himself.
I on the other hand, have family who lives out-of-state. I no longer travel often for work but I do take trips to visit family and friends. Every time I am away I stress about not being able to visit Jake and Sawyer’s grave (as I have written about before they share one plot).
When we were snowed in this past winter I did have fun playing with the twins.
However, I worried about not being able to check on my other 2 children. I know that they are not really there but I like to check on the little piece of land in the cemetery. It gives me a brief sense of being able to take care of Jake and Sawyer.
Dream
I am drawn quietly to his grave to check on him,
Just as I’d have been drawn quietly to his crib.
I trim the grass around his marker,
And dream of trimming bangs from his forehead.
I place flowers in his vase,
And dream of placing kisses on his check.
I hold his memory dear to my heart,
And dream of holding him in my arms.
Author unknown
I know that frequent visits to the cemetery might sound morbid to some people. Just like with birthdays I do not think there are any rules in this area. We all find comfort in different ways. The path in the journey of grief varies – even if you are grieving the same person (or people). Visit or do not visit the cemetery. Do what ever helps you at the time.
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