Dinner Conversations & Divorce
January 30, 2013 at 10:52 pm | Posted in after death?, Grief, life lessons, normal? | 7 CommentsTags: after death?, child loss, death, death of a baby, divorce, grandparents, Jake, new not so normal, perspective, Sawyer, twins, unexplainable
At dinner the other night the twins started to discuss the fact that some of their classmates live with only one of their parents. Evan and I tried to explain that sometimes parents do not always live in the same house. This did not get us very far.
The twins responded in unison, “Why???”
“Why would a child’s parents not live in the same house.”
Good question. Okay, I tried another angle.
I responded, “You know that daddy’s parents did not live in the same house? Remember we visit Mom Mom and Pop Pop’s house and Grandmom and Grandpop’s house?”
Quizzical looks from both of them let me know that they were processing this information. After a moment, he looked at me and said, “Well now that Mom Mom is dead does she live with Grandpop?”
Evan and I looked at each other. Neither of us had a response to give to our son. Luckily, his sister answered. “No silly! Mom Mom lives with Sawyer, Jake and Grandpoppy!”
Maybe
January 24, 2013 at 11:48 pm | Posted in after death?, Grief, life lessons, normal? | 5 CommentsTags: baby loss, Buddha, child loss, death of a baby, grief, hope, life after loss, new not so normal, perspective, Sawyer, twins, unexplainable
Maybe (Taoist story)
There is a Taoist story of an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. “Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically.
“Maybe,” the farmer replied. The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it 3 other wild horses. “How wonderful,” the neighbors exclaimed.
“Maybe,” replied the old man. The next day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune. “Maybe,” answered the farmer. The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. “Maybe,” said the farmer.
After Sawyer died, one of Evan’s friends came over to see us. Those days were such a blur that I do not remember his exact words but I will try to give you the basic gist. He explained that sometimes things happen and we do not see or understand why at the time. We may never understand why but the fact that Sawyer died could influence someone or something in the future.
I, of course, responded that I will never understand why.
He went on to say that some events need to be looked at in different ways.
I again responded that I have examined and reexamined every angle of Sawyer’s death and could not find anything except for earth shattering pain, emptiness and never ending darkness.
However, he continued to make his point in a way that I could actually accept. He gave the example that when the twins grow up that their experience of Sawyer dying could impact them beyond my initial thoughts of how they would grow up without their baby brother. They could be perhaps go on to discover a cure for whatever caused Sawyer’s death. In that moment I grasped the fact that something good could possibly result from Sawyer dying. Maybe, just maybe.
Stuff
January 16, 2013 at 9:16 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, life after loss, normal? | 6 CommentsTags: child loss, death of a baby, grandparents, grief, Jake, life after loss, new not so normal, Sawyer
Very often “get rid of clutter” is at the top of my to do list. Okay, sometimes I put it at the top of Evan’s to do list. I am overwhelmed by the piles of paper, toys, laundry, and stuff in general which seems to fill up the world. However, there is some clutter that I just cannot part with. The hospital bracelets from Jake’s tiny ankles, the smallest “sunglasses” which covered his sensitive eyes, every little thing that touched his body came home with us.
Sawyer had a lot more stuff. Right after he died we packed up, donated or got rid of most of the things he never wore or used. The things he did wear and use stayed on a shelf. Year after year Sawyer’s stuff did not move. Except for the sock.
I recently went on a business trip and when I got home Sawyer’s stuff was not on the shelf. I backed out of the room and went in again. It was still not there. I yelled for Evan. He calmly explained that he moved it. Just like that. He moved it to the same place where Jake’s stuff is kept.
Logically, I know that it is all just stuff but these are the only things that we will ever have that were Jake’s and Sawyer’s. I thought about these things as I threw out garbage bag after garbage bag of stuff as I helped to clean out my grandfather’s home. Why did I find it so easy, even therapeutic, to throw away his things?
I decided that my lifetime of memories with my grandfather made all the material things not necessary. I do not need stuff to remember him.
On the other hand, I had such a short time with Jake and Sawyer. There are not so many memories or stories to tell. So, I will hold onto the stuff that I can.
Tips for NICU Parents
January 12, 2013 at 10:52 pm | Posted in Grief, hospital, NICU, normal?, silver lining | 12 CommentsTags: bereavement training, Jake, NICU, Nurses, parents of premature babies, Sawyer, tips
This past week I, along with 2 other mothers, spoke to a group of nurses as part of their bereavement training. The nurses all work at Northside, the hospital where we had all 4 of our children.
This is the 3rd time I have been on the parent panel as part of this course. The purpose of parents speaking is so that we can give feedback about our experiences at the hospital and help the nurses to better understand the needs of the families. I listened to the other women recount their bittersweet experiences. I spoke about mine.
Along with helping the nurses understand the parent’s perspective, we also spoke about ideas for families with babies in the NICU. The other 2 mothers had several suggestions that Evan and I had not thought of while Jake was in the NICU. No one knows ahead of time that they will be a NICU parent. And, NICU parents do not usually have time to google suggestions for being a parent to a very premature baby. However, I am going to share this list just in case you or someone you know finds themselves with a child in the NICU.
- Take pictures. Use your phone, a disposable camera or whatever kind of camera is available to you. I am so thankful that the nurses encouraged us to take pictures.
- Video tape. If it is allowed make video tapes of your baby. I wish Evan and I had video of Jake.
- Pen and journal. Ask the nurses to write something down about your baby during their shift.
- Small stuffed animals. Carry them around so they pick up your scent. Place them in your babies’ isolette.
- Memory metal. Use the metal to make a finger or foot print of your baby.
- Scrapbook. The hospital gave us everything that touched Jake’s body. Evan and I keep all of Jake’s things. We have been working on a special cabinet to keep it all together but it would be great if we could put together a scrapbook as well.
Some hospitals have organizations to help and support NICU parents. The group at Northside is called Parents Partnered for Preemies. Do you have any other ideas to add to this list?
Jake’s stuffed animals
My Ghost of Christmas Past
December 26, 2012 at 12:02 am | Posted in Grief, Love, mourning, normal?, why I write | 21 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death of a baby, holidays, Sawyer, unexplainable
Dear Sawyer,
This picture of you looks as if I could just pick you up. My arms ache every time I look at it. I cannot believe I will never hold you again. I should have never let you go that night. If I knew it was the last time I was ever going to hold you or kiss you I would never have put you down on December 25th three years ago. If I were holding you would I have been able to save you? Why did you have to go? Will we ever know? So many questions without any answers.
The rational part of me knows that even if I ever do find out why you died it will not make a difference. You will still be dead. And, I will still be alive. The irrational part of me thinks that if I could just understand your cause of death I could protect you. Change the fact that you are gone. The logical me then takes over again and argues that if we knew the cause then we could test the twins. We could prevent other children from dying. The rational, irrational and logical me might be battling it out forever. None of us will win. We will have all lost.
I hope that I can always remember how it felt to hold you. I want to permanently erase the images of you in the emergency room. Unfortunately, they are burned into my mind. Luckily, there are other pictures of perfect little you. . .
Missing you always and forever. I will look for you in my dreams and hope that I can hold you again one day. I love you to the moon and back.
Doctors & Dreams
December 2, 2012 at 9:48 pm | Posted in after death?, Grief, Love, normal? | 10 CommentsTags: baby loss, child loss, dark days, death of a baby, new not so normal, perspective, quotes, Sad, Sawyer, unexplainable
Dear Sawyer,
Three years ago we had your 2 week check up with the pediatrician. You did fantastic. You were gaining weight. You were eating. You were sleeping. All seemed to be going well. Was there something that we missed?
The doctor told us that you were perfect. We even scheduled your 2 month check up in January of 2010. As you know, we did not make it to that appointment.
I try not to imagine what you would be like as a 3-year-old. I know that I should just mourn the loss of you as a baby. It only makes it more painful to grieve the losses of all the other stages you sadly never reached. Good night baby boy. I love you. I miss you. As always, I will look for you in my dreams.
Stuck
November 26, 2012 at 10:48 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, life lessons, normal? | 17 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death of a baby, grief, Jake, miscarriage, new not so normal, perspective, quotes, Sad, Sawyer, thoughts
Thank you Brooke from by the brooke for writing about the book, Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar. The book is written by Cheryl Strayed, who was formerly the anonymous online advice columnist, Dear Sugar. The book is a collection of letters written to Dear Sugar and her responses.
One letter is from a bereaved mother, Stuck. Stuck’s baby died. I want to share the wisdom that Sugar so powerfully offers. The following is part of the advice that Sugar wrote to her:
Dear Stuck,
I’m so sorry that your baby girl died. So terribly sorry. I can feel your suffering vibrating right through my computer screen. This is to be expected. It is as it should be. Though we live in a time and place and culture that tries to tell us otherwise, suffering is what happens when truly horrible things happen to us.
Don’t listen to those people who suggest you should be “over” your daughter’s death by now. The people who squawk the loudest about such things have almost never had to get over anything. Or at least not anything that was genuinely mind-fuckingly, soul-crushingly life altering. Some of those people believe they are being helpful by minimizing your pain. Others are scared of the intensity of your loss and so they use their words to push your grief away. Many of those people love you and are worthy of your love, but they are not the people who will be helpful to you when it comes to healing the pain of your daughter’s death.
They live on Planet Earth. You live on Planet My Baby Died.
It seems to me that you feel like you’re all alone there. You aren’t. There are women reading this right now who have tears in their eyes. There are women who have spent their days chanting daughter, daughter or son, son silently to themselves. Women who have been privately tormented about the things they did or didn’t do that they fear caused the death of their babies. You need to find those women. They’re your tribe.
I know because I’ve lived on a few planets that aren’t Planet Earth myself […]
This is how you get unstuck, Stuck. You reach. Not so you can walk away from the daughter you loved, but so you can live the life that is yours — the one that includes the sad loss of your daughter, but is not arrested by it. The one that eventually leads you to a place in which you not only grieve her, but also feel lucky to have had the privilege of loving her. That place of true healing is a fierce place. It’s a giant place. It’s a place of monstrous beauty and endless dark and glimmering light. And you have to work really, really, really hard to get there, but you can do it. […]
You will never stop loving your daughter. You will never forget her. You will always know her name. But she will always be dead. Nobody can intervene and make that right and nobody will. Nobody can take it back with silence or push it away with words. Nobody will protect you from your suffering. You can’t cry it away or eat it away or starve it away or walk it away or punch it away or even therapy it away. It’s just there, and you have to survive it. You have to endure it. You have to live through it and love it and move on and be better for it and run as far as you can in the direction of your best and happiest dreams across the bridge that was built by your own desire to heal. Therapists and friends and other people who live on Planet My Baby Died can help you along the way, but the healing–the genuine healing, the actual real deal down-on-your-knees-in-the-mud-change–is entirely and absolutely up to you. […]
Yours,
Sugar
I have been living on Planet My Baby Died for 7 years. I do not know if there is a separate Planet for when a second child dies. If so, I have been on that Planet for almost 3 years. Either way, here I am trying to live.
Remembering Miracles
November 16, 2012 at 10:02 am | Posted in Grief, life lessons, normal?, silver lining | 3 CommentsTags: child loss, death of a baby, gratitude, Jake, kindness, new not so normal, perspective, remembering miracles, Sawyer, ways to honor the memory of your child
Thank you Samantha Murphy for remembering Jake and Sawyer. Samantha recently started writing, Remembering Miracles. She writes to ” keep the memories alive of the children who are now walking as angels in Heaven.” Her blog is “to honor them, and to share their stories, so that they will live on forever, and never be forgotten. But although they are no longer physically here, their spirits live on, and will never fade as they continue to fight for their cause. So come on. Join the fights. Join the remembrance. What have you got to lose?”
I am honored that she wrote about Sawyer. Remember Sawyer.
And, she wrote about Jake. Remember Jake.
Samantha you are so very kind, thoughtful and wise beyond your years. Thank you again for not letting the memories fade.
November 17
November 14, 2012 at 10:38 pm | Posted in Grief, life after loss, Love, normal? | 14 CommentsTags: #WorldPrematurityDay, birthday, child loss, death of a baby, Global Week of Action for child survival, new not so normal, quotes, Sawyer
Sawyer,
It is me again. I keep losing track of days. Your 3rd birthday would/should be in 3 days. November 17th is not only your birthday but it is World Prematurity Day. You were not premature but your big brother Jake was 14 weeks early. In fact, you were 8 lbs and 1 oz and perfect. I know that if you were here you would be okay sharing your birthday with Jake’s cause.
This year is also the first Global Week of Action for child survival. The 13th-20th of November this campaign will try to “bring people together across the globe to raise their voices against the unacceptable number of children dying before their fifth birthday from preventable causes”. I do not know if your cause of death was preventable. I am still hoping to know for sure one day. I hope that where ever you are you know your dad and I would have done anything to protect you. I still cannot believe that I could not save you.
I do not know if I cry because I am weak or strong. I do not care either way. I just cry and miss you. Love you always and forever.
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.
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A Mourning Mom 