Frog & Toad
May 20, 2012 at 11:50 pm | Posted in Grief, twins | 7 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, death of a baby, Jake, post traumatic stress disorder, Sawyer, twins, unexplainable
“What is the matter, Toad? You are looking sad.”
“Yes,” said Toad. “This is my sad time of day.”
Frog and Toad are Friends by Arnold Lobel
After Sawyer died I cried a lot in front of the twins. They were 2 1/2 year olds at the time and did not ask too many questions about my tears. Now, over 2 years later, the twins ask questions about everything and I rarely cry in front of them. The sadness is still there but I have better control over it. Every once in a while it gets the best of me and the tears leak out against my will. Today was one of those days. I know it is not just today – it has been creeping up on me over the last few months.
I know that there will be other days when the tears take over. It is ok to be sad but it is also ok to be happy. If not for me than for them.
Once Upon a Playdate
May 10, 2012 at 10:00 pm | Posted in Grief, life after loss, silver lining, twins | 4 CommentsTags: child loss, home, hope, Jake, motherhood, parenthood, perspective, playdate, Sawyer, twins
“Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.” Elizabeth Stone
I was not able to prevent Jake or Sawyer’s deaths. As their mother, I thought I could/should be able to protect them from anything and everything. I was wrong. I try my best to keep the twins as safe as possible. I know that just like with Jake and Sawyer I will not be able to shelter them from anything and everything. It is a work in progress . . .
There once was a little boy who would talk on and on about his friend, G. He thought about having a playdate with her but was not quite sure he was ready for his mom to make the call to set it up. Then one day G’s mom and the little boy’s mom made a plan to play after school.
After he found out about the plan, the little boy would wake up every morning and anxiously ask, “Is today the day that G is coming over to play?”
Finally the big day arrived. At school, there was a field trip to a park. The little boy’s mom was one of the drivers. On the playground, the little boy ran up to his mom and sadly declared, “G changed her mind and she is not coming over to play today.” The little boy’s twin sister came running up right behind him and just for emphasis yelled “G is NOT coming over ever.”
The little boy’s mother tried to say comforting things like, “maybe G will change her mind” and “if G does not come over today we will find another day for a playdate.” The little boy folded his arms over his chest and sadly said, “Mama, this is the worstest day ever.”
The field trip ended and all the children went back to school. The little boy asked G again if she would come over for the playdate. She responded that should would never ever come over.
The little boy’s mom tried unsuccessfully to think of an extra special treat for the afternoon. Pick up time arrived and G hopped into her car. The little boy unhappily watched her as she climbed into her minivan. The little boy’s mom as a last-ditch effort went over to G’s car before it drove out of the carpool line. G smiled at the little boy’s mom. G climbed out of her car seat and said, “I think I would like to go on that playdate now.”
And they played happily ever after.
The Ocean
April 4, 2012 at 9:28 pm | Posted in Death, Grief | 5 CommentsTags: child loss, dark days, fathers, Grandfather, Jokes, life after loss, member of the club, parenthood, perspective, twins, unexplainable, valley of death
I met a bereaved father the other day. There is an immediate level of familiarity when you meet another member of the club. Bereaved parents all have different stories but we have all walked in the darkest valley of death. We have all cruelly defied the circle of life and outlived our children.
It has been 7 years since his 29-year-old son died. The father went on to tell me an analogy of grieving for your child. I am not sure I can explain it as eloquently as he did but I will try.
Grief is like an ocean. At times it is calm but there are always ripples. Other times the water is rough. The ocean is unpredictable. Out of no where and with little or no warning a tsunami will drown you. Over time the waters will calm down again but they will never be still.
On a completely different but still ocean related note, click this link to hear the twins tell their versions of their great grandfather’s ocean joke.
The Story of the Stones
March 28, 2012 at 10:48 pm | Posted in Cemetery, Grief, normal?, traditions, twins | 9 CommentsTags: Jewish customs, new not so normal, twins, unexplainable
You may have noticed in my last post that Jake and Sawyer’s headstone is covered with stones. At the unveiling, Jake and Sawyer’s sister carefully arranged all of the stones. In fact, the twins each painted rocks for the occasion. She would only paint the smooth stones. He would only paint the rough ones.
The tradition of leaving rocks on the headstone signifies that someone has visited which honors the deceased person’s memory. The last scene of Schindler’s List depicts children of Survivors placing stones on Oscar Schindler’s grave.
There are many theories on the origins of this custom. A few are the following:
- The stones are a kind of calling card left for the deceased. Stones, unlike flowers, are permanent and do not get blown away in the wind.
- Jacob’s sons took a stone and put it on Rachel’s (their mother’s)grave to make up Rachel’s tomb. In placing stones on the grave one participates in building the tombstone.
- A large stone slab was placed on the grave so that it would not be lost. Rabbi Tam, goes on to explain that there were smaller stones that were set under the sides of the large stone that rests on them so that it will not bear down too heavily on the deceased.
- The ritual of placing a stone is a way of expressing our emotions and spiritual needs. Rabbi Andrew Straus explains that “we need physical acts to express these things for us, to make them concrete.”
“Placing a stone on a grave does just that. It works in several ways:
1) It is a sign to others who come to the grave when I am not there that they and I are not the only ones who remember. The stones I see on the grave when I come are a reminder to me that others have come to visit the grave. My loved one is remembered by many others and his/her life continues to have an impact on others, even if I do not see them.
2) When I pick up the stone it sends a message to me. I can still feel my loved one. I can still touch and be touched by him/her. I can still feel the impact that has been made on my life. Their life, love, teachings, values, and morals still make an impression on me. When I put the stone down, it is a reminder to me that I can no longer take this person with me physically. I can only take him/her with me in my heart and my mind and the actions I do because he/she taught me to do them. Their values, morals, ideals live on and continue to impress me – just as the stone has made an impression on my hands – so too their life has made an impression on me that continues.” Rabbi Tom Louchheim
I am sure there are more theories but no matter the origins I like the tradition. Evan and I collect stones from places we go. We have our own tradition of kissing the rocks before we place them on the headstone. We are sending kisses to Jake and Sawyer. I hope that they are getting them.
Surprise it is Spring
March 18, 2012 at 5:34 pm | Posted in Death, Grief, life after loss, normal? | 9 CommentsTags: dark days, post traumatic stress disorder, Sad, twins
“And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on. But on you will go though the weather be foul . . .”
Dr. Seuss
Spring is here. The days are sunnier. I feel quite the opposite of sunny. This journey of life and grief always brings dark dark days. At times I wish I could just disappear into the darkness. I cannot. So, I put on my sunglasses and follow these 2 out into the big world.
TMI vs. not TMI?
February 28, 2012 at 10:46 pm | Posted in life lessons, normal?, twins, venting | 5 CommentsTags: child loss, infertility, Jake, life after loss, parenthood, Sawyer, twins, unexplainable
I do talk about Jake and Sawyer – and if you are reading this then you know I do write about them quite often. They are never far from my thoughts. However, I will at times not mention my 2 children who are not with me. Sometimes it is because I do not know the other person and will never see them again. Other times it is because I do not want to see the look of pity which often accompanies Jake and Sawyer’s stories.
Then there are times when I give too much information on purpose. I distinctly remember a wedding shortly after Jake died. Evan and I were talking to 2 other couples. One of the couples, who are our very good friends, like us did not have any children at home at the time. The 3rd couple kept mentioning their kids and the fact that we did not have any. They asked things like, “How long have you been married?” We each answered. Couple #3 followed up with, “So, aren’t you thinking about having kids?” We each politely tried to dodge the questions and change the subject. Couple #3 did not take the hints. I finally had enough. I wanted to stop this line of questioning. So, I piped up,”We buried our son a few months ago.” I thought that the conversation would come to a screeching halt. I was wrong. Couple #3 does not miss a beat, “When will you start trying again?”
The past few days I have been once again tempted to share too much information in order to stop a conversation. We have been receiving many emails about teacher appreciation week at the twins’ preschool. Each class needs volunteers for a specific time so the teachers can eat a child free (aka peaceful) lunch. The exact time the volunteers are needed is when Evan and I have a meeting scheduled with a rabbi to discuss Sawyer’s unveiling.
At first I did not reply to the emails. The emails kept coming. I drafted the following:
“I am sorry I cannot volunteer for the teacher appreciation lunch because we need to meet with a rabbi so that we can plan our youngest son’s unveiling. We have had trouble getting the correct headstone. Now it is here and the rabbi who presided over Sawyer’s funeral took a visiting rabbi assignment up north. He won’t be back till April. A very good friend put us in touch with her rabbi. We are meeting with him at the exact same time you need volunteers.”
I deleted my rambling email and opted for not TMI:
“Sorry again but I just cannot volunteer at that time this week. If something changes I will let you know asap. Hope that you have a good night. Thank you.”
Sometimes less is more.
Paranoid Parenting
January 28, 2012 at 11:22 pm | Posted in emergency room, life after loss, normal?, twins | 9 CommentsTags: child loss, life after loss, new not so normal, parenthood, post traumatic stress disorder, Sawyer, twins, unexplainable
I felt my heart racing as I drove down the street towards the twins’ pediatrician. They were in the back seat. I hoped they did not sense my panic. My heart always races just a bit faster when we pass the entrance to the emergency room of the Children’s hospital. I cannot drive past it without thinking of driving in the ambulance with Sawyer.
Confession #1 – At times I have driven way out of my way to avoid this entrance. However, passing it is the only good route to the twins’ doctor.
Confession #2 – I have thought about switching pediatricians just so I do not have to drive down this street all the time. I rule this out because I know that these flashbacks are in my head and I cannot escape them (and I love our pediatrician).
It was the 2nd straight day of high fevers. Pink eye had definitely returned to our house. And, as usual I am completely paranoid about their breathing. Colds, flu, pink eye – it is all part of being a parent. I know this and I repeatedly remind myself that all kids get sick. I try to trust my instincts as a mother. The doubt always creeps in – not matter what I do. I thought Sawyer was fine the night he died. My maternal instincts failed me that night – could they fail me again?
I had begged the sick appointment nurse to squeeze us in Friday afternoon. We were the last appointment. We got the pink eye medicine and an antibiotic. Pulsox levels were good. No irregular heart beats. My panic started to subside. I packed the twins back into the car and drove home.
Life Lessons (part 2)
January 12, 2012 at 11:22 pm | Posted in Grief, life lessons, silver lining, twins | 14 CommentsTags: child loss, life after loss, new not so normal, perspective, Sawyer, twins
“Today is the best day ever,” is a phrase the twins proclaim almost every day. This week I asked what exactly makes it the best day ever.
Day 1, we were in the carpool line and the teacher opened the car door. At that moment one of the twins proceeded to get sick in the car and on himself. His sister somehow managed to stay clean and went to school.
I drove home, cleaned him and the car. Our dryer had been broken so as I debated how best to clean the dirty clothes he announced, “This is the best day ever!” Really!? So, I asked him, what makes this the best day ever? He laughed as he replied, “The water you gave me after I got sick.”
Day 2, we woke up to this:
After we left the pediatrician to go pick up the prescription for pink eye, he proclaimed, “This is the best day ever!” I was so perplexed as to why he thought waking up with your eye glued shut and spending the morning at the doctor’s office was so fantastic. I asked again, “Really, this is the best day ever? What makes it the best?” He excitedly answered, “I get to go to CVS!”
Day 3, I had been up most of the night with the twins because of coughing and pink eye. They share a room so I decided to take one into the other room and hoped that everyone would get some sleep. The other room was originally our guest room. Then it was Sawyer’s room. Now most of Sawyer’s things have been removed, the guest furniture is in the room and it is still light green we had it painted before Sawyer was born.
I woke up in the morning and both twins were in the bed. They were talking about how Sawyer thinks this is the best day ever. I asked, “Why does Sawyer think this is the best day ever?” They replied, “He is so happy to share his room with us.”
There are good days and there are bad days, and this is one of them – Lawrence Welk
Life Lessons
January 2, 2012 at 10:50 pm | Posted in Grief, life after loss, life lessons, silver lining | 9 CommentsTags: child loss, holidays, new not so normal, rainbows, Sawyer, twins, unexplainable, year in review
Here are a few of the things I have learned so far in life. I did not necessarily learn them in 2011 but now seems as good a time as any to share them. Do you have any you would like to share?
This list is not complete and will most likely be ongoing for the rest of my life. They are in no particular order. . .
- When asked, “How you are?” Most of the time people just want to hear the response, “Fine” and go on with their day.
- Hug more. One of the twins loves to hug and be hugged all the time. I will actually be hugging him and he will say, “Mama, I need a hug.” I answer, “I am hugging you right now”. He responds, “Hug more.”
- Look for rainbows.
- Listen carefully. The twins wanted gelt, the chocolate coins which are given out at Hanukkah. However, they kept asking, “Is it time for Hanukkah guilt?”
- Music makes people happy.
- Tutus also make people happy (see above). And, apparently ties can be the reason for really big smiles.
- Sleep. Grief (along with life in general) is exhausting.
- Life can be heartbreaking, unfair and unexplainable. No one ever promised any thing different.
- Treasure the moments – you are never sure just how many you will have.
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.
Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.
Entries and comments feeds.
A Mourning Mom 