She's Come Undone...

Coming Apart at the Seams

2011-08-20T20:10:00.000-07:00

I've been MIA from my blog, from my email friends and from FB. There has been so much going on in my life lately, I don't know where to start. But to make it simple, I'll start here....I'm coming apart at the seams. I should be better by now, shouldn't I? Well I'm far from okay lately. I think I may have post traumatic stress disorder and while I'll spare you the appalling details, I'm suffering from nightmares. Extreme nightmares where I scream and thrash about and wake up my husband. I've ground my teeth so much lately I've chipped the front ones noticeably. And I feel like crying alot. I've had to step back and take a break from all of "this world" and it's pain. I simply cannot cope right now without losing my marbles completely. I feel terrible, like an unreliable friend and I just wanted you all to know that it's not for lack of caring that I've disappeared. I'm starting to lose my stuffing and it's falling out so fast I can't stuff it back in quick enough right now. The term barely hanging on by a thread describes me to a tee and I'm sure if I don't get in to see someone soon I'm gonna end up taking a medically induced vacation. Sorry guys. Thought I was dealing with things better than I am. Realizing just how fucked up I am right now has been hard. Avoidance has kept me together for the most part but hasn't solved anything that I'm gonna have to deal with and before I grind my teeth down to little nubs of nothingness I wanted you all to know I love you and miss talking with you, miss the closeness of sisterhood I feel when I am keeping in touch. However, I tend to isolate like I've got the plague when I'm down and it truly is just me and always has been. And I know I'm going to really need some support here soon. So I thought I'd check in and let you all know I haven't checked out quite yet but I have some shit to get dealt with before I completely end up hollow. Please think of me from time to time and send some positive vibes my way.

One for the Family...

2011-04-25T13:01:00.000-07:00

My Easter weekend was not great. While I had known that something was up with my sister in law because she has been avoiding me lately, I didn't expect for things to come to a head just before Easter dinner up at my inlaws. It seems she didn't like what I had to say on my prior post about Lorelei and how angry I am at the family for letting my child down while I was grieving and not in the place to care for her as I should have. Apparently she says I make her feel unwelcome in my home. She has also had issues with me previously for not returning phone calls or bothering to check my messages. I'm not an idiot. I knew I was being shunned, it's not like it came as a big surprise. What DID surprise me was the way things went down....

As we were sitting in the livingroom making smalltalk, I commented on my niece's hair, how it looks like she is getting some more hair finally. And then I said, And I just can't get over how big her teeth are, they almost look like adult teeth. It was merely a comment, not meant in malice in any way, shape or form but my sister in law got upset and told me it wasn't a very nice thing to say. I tried to explain that I would never say anything hurtful in regards to my niece, that I was merely making a comment which led to her bringing up everything she doesn't like about me. I got angry. I think the single thing that pissed me off the most was the hypocrisy of some of the things she was saying to me. First and foremost, she told me outright when Georgia was born that she wasn't very cute. Told me this in the hospital while I had a sick baby in the ICU and newborn Georgia in my arms. SHE TOLD ME MY BABY WAS BASICALLY UGLY. Yet she freaked out when all I did was mention my niece had really large teeth. Unlike her, I would NEVER tell her she has an ugly baby or say anything intentionally hurtful about her child. It truly burns my ass that she would think that I would. I KNOW how it feels to have someone tell you your child isn't very pretty and it fucking SUCKED so I would NEVER do it to anyone else. As for making her feel unwelcome in my home, my brother in law told my husband that it was because I did dishes after having them over for dinner one night. That I didn't leave things and "visit" while she was there. And then I went for a smoke. I'm a smoker. I went for a cigarette after doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen and apparently because of this, I made her feel unwelcome. This is a girl who I have supported many, many times throughout the years emotionally, WHATEVER she has gone through. I have also gone out of my way to provide her daughter with whatever I could that my own children have either outgrown or dont' use anymore. Things I could have consigned and made money back on. The last time she was over, I gave her a pair of shoes that were too big for me. But somehow I made her feel unwelcome. I didn't mean to, I tend to wear my emotions on my sleeve so if I'm upset at you, you'd know.

I have ALSO asked her on occasion to care for my children and have been refused because it would be too hard. I asked when my mom was dying so that Shane could drive me to the coast and she said no. The reason she gave me for not wanting to watch my children so I can go away in June was that she had made a commitment to go to the park everyday with her daughter and the little girl she provides daycare for and it would just be too hard. Was I angry with her reason, yes. Because she has repeatedly turned me down when I have asked her if she and my brother in law could watch our girls. Even in the emergency of my mother dying she couldn't bring herself to provide care for my children so that I could have the support of my husband. It was too hard. Too much work. I have felt for a long time that if things didn't benefit her in some way that she couldn't be bothered. I can't even count the number of times Shane and I have paid the way for them for dinner, vacation, etc. My husband even paid my brother in law for the time he took off for his honeymoon despite the fact that vacation pay was already paid out on every single check. Two weeks wages. Am I ranting? Yes....

I left before dinner last night. I left Shane and the girls there and came home. I was hurt and angry and didn't feel like staying there would have benefited anyone. So I came home by myself and ate hamburger helper for Easter dinner. And during it all, my mother in law called and screamed at me for leaving. She told me to get my ass back there, that she hadn't worked hard all day preparing a meal to have me leave because of a tiff with my sister in law. The way she talked to me did NOT make me want to go back and I told her that. So she screamed at me to grow up and hung up on me. Needless to say, I didn't go back. Instead I thought long and hard about the way my relationship with my husband's side of the family has made me feel over the years. Of course there has been many, many good times. But there has also been so many bad times that I have dreaded attending family functions as they ALWAYS seem to turn into a dramafest. I made the decision last night that I am severing ties with my husband's family. There is too much negativity, too many resentments, too much hypocrisy and no one EVER says they're sorry. I can't do it anymore. I DO have many, many hurts over the way I feel Shane and I have been used over the years, the way we were abandoned after Calvin died and how everyone in the family seems to have self serving motives. I don't want to have to buy family. I don't want to fear expressing disappointment, anger, sadness because someone is going to TWIST things to make themselves look like victims. I'm tired of the drama. I don't know if Shane and I will stay married. I know that me severing ties with his family is going to cause friction for him and while I feel bad, I'm simply not willing to make the effort any longer. This family is TOXIC to my emotional well being and I can no longer be a part of that. It sucks and it hurts but I just can't deal with it anymore.

Some Days

2011-04-08T02:29:00.000-07:00

I really fucking hate my life....

For Lorelei

2011-04-06T23:28:00.000-07:00

I've been hit hard by grief again these past few weeks and I'm not quite sure whether it's been all the recent news of births and pregnancies, new hope and new beginnings. In my saddest moments as of late the "raison d'etre" of my grief has shifted and taken on a new focus, one that should have been apparent to me all along but has suddenly become quite clear. My beautiful daughter is grieving. Still. Not just for her brother or her "Gramma Beverley" who recently passed away, but for her parents and for being "abandoned" by us when Calvin died. This has become very clear lately in my darlings behaviour, her need for mellowdramatic expression, her "emergencies" and attention seeking, and her in endless need to be reassured of our love for her. The dawning realization that I have failed her as a mother has broken my heart into pieces his past week and has resurfaced some issues and resentments over the way Shane and I were isolated after Calvin's funeral. I'm angry. I'm angry at myself for not being better equiped to deal with my grief AND not just my newborn's needs but my three year old's as well. I'm angry at family who instead of helping maintain a sense of normal for Lorelei when Shane and I were falling apart, turned their backs telling us we needed our "privacy". My girl has a wounded soul and it's taken me this long to realize it. She's preoccupied with a fear of death, terrified that any minor wound or illness may become fatal. She's resentful of the sister who took so much of what little I had left to give when Calvin died. She's prone to fits of histrionics and frequently reverts back to lap sitting and baby talking. In truth her behaviour is so aggravating some days that I was terrified to send her to kindergarten this year, terrified the teacher and other students would reject her. I'm so protective of her that I feel compelled to share what we've been through as a family while inside I'm silently pleading, "Please, please, be kind to her, remember what she's lost". My heart breaks for her....my poor girl. Looking back now, I wish I had called up our friends and family and asked them to take Lorelei for some fun, to show her that although our life was continuing in a different way, that there was still going to be someone she could rely on when mom and dad weren't at our best. I wish they had called and offered to give her some extra attention and love while we were in mourning. I don't know why they didn't. I wish for her sake they had....And now I'm angry and hurt and feeling guilty for what she endured and is STILL enduring because of how our family grief was handled. I wonder at times in my exasperation with her behaviour if she will ever be okay and I wonder if it's right to expect this of her when I'm not sure I will ever be okay myself. And I feel stupid for taking this long to realize just how much my daughter is hurting.

Joy and Sorrow...

2011-04-05T15:40:00.000-07:00

Seems like I just can't have one without the other. I'm emotional lately, seems like there are so many beautiful babies , rainbow babies being born in the loss community. And I am joyful, oh so joyful for their safe arrivals into loving arms who have waited an eternity to mother them. These babies and their mothers certainly have a special place in my heart and I have shed many, many tears of joy upon reading of another new arrival. However......with this joy comes an old sorrow, this persistent longing for another babe of my own to cradle in my arms, another chance to smell the delicious scent of newborn skin and hair. I'm feeling sorry for myself in a most pitiful way. Sorry I tied my tubes. Sorry for my age and all the worry that comes with it when one is thinking about conceiving, sorry for my son and my missed opportunity to mother twins. I feel selfish and ugly for feeling these things and I wish to hell I didn't. Because I don't begrudge ANY momma their babies, I just want another one of my OWN. It really stinks, this land of indecision. I can afford IVF now but I'm so very AFRAID of what might happen and what would happen to me in the aftermath of another loss but the calling to be uncomfortable and full of rolling, stretching baby is overwhelming me and I wonder just how on earth they all did it. How do you say goodbye to your precious child and then find the courage and the strength to overcome the fear and sadness to try again. And in some cases, again and again. I wonder if the price I'd pay for this longing would end up being my emotional wellbeing in the end, but then again I don't feel emotionally well NOW. I feel incomplete. I want another baby but I am terrified to take a chance to go through with the steps it will take to get to what I want. What if it fails? What if I produce another child who has a defect that costs him or her their life again? What if I CAN'T get pregnant anymore, even with IVF? The more I try not to think about it and just live my life, the more rainbow babies seem to be arriving....and while I know it's far from true, I feel like I am the ONLY one who has lost a child and then not gone on to have another. I am so very, very torn. And while yes, I am very full of joy for you all, I am at the same time filled with my own sorrow and longing. I miss my son. To this day I miss him with every beat of my heart. Time hasn't healed me, it's merely given me a reprieve in between moments of gutwrenching pain. I think I'm beginning to realize it will probably always be this way although the moments in between will continue to grow further and further apart. This stinks. I wish I could just push it all away and celebrate for you my friends, without that pain twisting in my gut and the echoes in my head of what could have been.....

2011...A Year of Change

2011-01-12T11:51:00.001-08:00

I have a feeling this year will be a year of upheaval and change for me. Not necessarily a bad thing but for someone who has issues dealing with change, it's going to knock me out of my comfort zone. Shane and I are moving. We've decided to move to another province, where the cost of living is lower and where we can actually afford to buy our own home. I've decided to go back to school once we're settled, and pursue a degree in nursing hoping eventually to specialize in either pediatrics or labour and delivery. It's terrifying and exciting all at the same time. We are taking a huge chance in moving away from friends and family and shutting down the business that has sustained us since Lorelei's birth in 2005. It feels right. I owe my children so much more then I have been able to provide for them and the last two years have been extremely difficult for us financially. Although our children are not aware of how bad things have been for us, the stress of trying to provide enough food and keep our shelter has worn me out emotionally. My marriage has suffered and in return, I haven't been the most attentive mother I could have been. My mother's gift is going to provide so much for our family, and I am so grateful. Where we are looking to move, we can purchase a home outright for under 300K. Which will leave me with enough money to take the five years it will take to get my degree in nursing. That's huge. With the economy in BC being as rocky as it's been for the last few years, the construction industry has lost it's appeal for us. I'm tired of being underbid, underpaid and generally under appreciated. I am also tired of relying on my husband to support our family. It's caused too many problems between us and left me feeling powerless and resentful during the hard times. I don't want to feel that way anymore. I want to be able to have a career that will carry us through the hard times, when things aren't going well for Shane in business and I want to be able to not worry constantly about finances. Not having to worry about the cost of shelter will be an enormous relief for us and I am excited about finally having a place I can call my own. The positives of these changes far outweigh the negatives...even though it means leaving Calvin behind. We won't go until my mother is buried with him and we will continue to pay the reservation fees for the plot next to our son so that eventually we will lay beside him for eternity. However, I have that mother's guilt...the nagging voice that tells me I'm a terrible mother for moving away from my son's grave. It's not going to be easy and I'm sure I will question many, many times whether we're doing the right thing, however I know this is what I need to do for Lorelei and Georgia to give them the stability growing up that they deserve. After all we have been through as a family, I owe my children a stable home and a life not dictated by being broke all the time. It's a change I very much look forward to...and I'll be keeping you posted as things progress for us. All my love...

Tis the Season

2010-12-20T03:39:00.000-08:00

Well, it's that time of year again and the holidays are suddenly upon us. Oddly, despite the death of my mother last month, I have been looking forward to Christmas this year. It's the first Christmas since Calvin died that I've actually been excited for the day, the traditions, the Christmas cheer. In fact, I wasn't at all anticipating any feelings of grief to sneak in and make me feel blue, that is until tonite. It's now a quarter to four in the morning and my mind won't shut off. I can't stop thinking about Calvin, my mind has been seized on thoughts of him since earlier this evening when I was wrapping presents for the girls. Suddenly, a tiny thought snuck in, the thought of how wonderful it would be if he were here, how fun it would be to watch him opening presents with Georgia and Lorelei on Christmas morning. That tiny thought became a tidal wave of sadness and suddenly I felt hollow again, that horrible empty feeling that I've been trying desperately to fill since Calvin flew away. Shane didn't notice my tears. I kept my sadness to myself, hoping not to bring the heaviness of grief to dampen our good spirits. But since then I can't stop thinking of my son, of being pregnant with him and Georgia, the joy I felt when I found out I was expecting two babies. It seems like a lifetime ago. While it's only just been two years since our twins were born and Calvin died, it feels like a hundred and I can't remember back to a time where grief didn't intrude on my happier moments.

It occurred to me tonite to get his things out. To retrieve his bloody sleeper, the one he died in, from the trunk of his belongings and hold it and smell it to see if it still smelled of him. I stifled the urge but I can't seem to shut off my head. The memories of him rolling and kicking inside me, of holding him in the delivery room keep playing like a film loop behind my eyes. I remember everything about him, how he felt, how he smelled, how he felt in my arms, and how soft his hair was against my lips. When I think of him in eternal sleep under a blanket of soft white snow it makes me indescribably sad. I wish I could wish it all away. I wish I could make the sadness disappear forever. I wish my life was more like the times I close my eyes and imagine him here, running with Georgia, curls flying amidst squeals of laughter. My family is incomplete. I imagine I will always feel this way, this hollow ache in my stomach when I think of him, tears when I least expect them. I keep waiting for the magic of time to soften the edges of the pain but I'm coming to realize that time doesn't do that, it just keeps the pain at bay for longer stretches of time. It still hurts just as much, just not as often. I know I'm not the only one feeling the sting of sadness during the holidays, it's just that time of year. I wish I knew how to fix it, for me and for you mamas who are also hurting right now. The best I can do is to wish you all peace and hope that the love that surrounds you this Christmas soothes the ache in your hearts. Me, I'm gonna go stuff my face with cookies....

The Gift...

2010-12-02T21:57:00.001-08:00

When my mother passed away last week I learned she had given me a wonderful gift. It's the gift of freedom, of possibilities, of pursuing my dreams again...My precious, frugal mother left me enough money to start over, to make a secure and comfortable home for my girls, to let me finish my education and maybe even do a round or two of IVF...we shall see. I'm in awe of the doors she has opened to me and I'm so grateful...I wish I could tell her.

Céline Dion - Goodbye's (The Saddest Word)

2010-11-28T12:10:00.000-08:00

Mom...

2010-11-28T11:54:00.000-08:00

My mother passed away suddenly this past week. Although she had been sick for many, many years with Multiple Sclerosis and that I knew her death was an eventuality, I was unprepared emotionally for the pain. I got the call Monday night at seven o'clock that she had pnuemonia and would likely die in one to two days, her doctors having decided years ago that no medical intervention would be taken in an such an event due to mom's poor quality of life. That said, still hoping for the best I boarded a Greyhound Tuesday afternoon after spending hours trying to arrange care for the girls so that Shane could come with me. When we couldn't find anyone to care for our girls, Shane stayed home and I went alone. Mom passed away at seven o'clock Tuesday evening, an hour before my bus got there. I was too late to say good-bye...However, the staff at the hospital had arranged with my family to keep mom there, in her bed in her private room until I arrived to see her and spend some time saying all the things I had hoped to say while she was still alive. It was surreal to say the least. When I walked in to my mother's hospital room, the lights were dimmed, there was soft music playing and my mother lay still, looking peaceful. The tears came fast and hard and I cried and held her hand, kissed her forehead and said my farewells....The same detatched feeling, the head not part of my body any longer came over me just as it had when Calvin died. I felt like I was outside myself as I left her room for the last time.

The next couple of days flew by in a flurry of activity, making funeral arrangements, dealing with the bank and the lawyers handling her estate. Mom's wishes were to be cremated and have her ashes scattered where her father's ashes were scattered on a pretty stretch of road in the coastal mountains of BC. Trying my best to honour her wishes and yet deal with my own feelings of "needing a place to go", the family and I came to a compromise that I would receive half of Mom's ashes which I will have buried with Calvin in the spring. I feel old yet young at the same time. At the age of thirty-nine I have lost both my parents and my infant son...nothing I ever expected to have experienced by this time in my life. I'm sad. I'm sad for my mother's suffering all these years, yet at the same time, I'm happy she's free. When I imagine her holding Calvin in Heaven it brings a sense of great peace to my heart, knowing that my son is receiving the love of his grandmother until we all meet again...

This song spoke to my heart and I wanted to share it with you...Goodbye's the Saddest Word.

Calvin's Angel Day

2010-11-16T09:50:00.001-08:00

I can't believe it's been two years already. Two years of pain and upheaval and learning to live a life without my son. His absence is a constant reminder of what could have been and not a day has passed that I haven't thought of him and missed him with every beat of my heart...I love you Calvin, the hardest thing I've ever done was letting you go...

Two...

2010-11-10T13:06:00.000-08:00

Two years old...what a little beauty.

Meeting Calvin for the first time.

Calvin moments after birth.

Shane cuddling Georgia in the recovery room.

Georgia moments after her birth.

Has it really been two years? I can hardly believe it because it seems like it was only yesterday you both came into my life. It was a day filled with indescribable joy and yet today is bittersweet. Happy Birthday Calvin and Georgia and thank you for giving me one of the best days of my life...

Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret....

2010-11-08T14:47:00.000-08:00

Dear God,

I'm still unsure if you exist or if you're just a crutch scared people use to deal with mortality. I'm sure the idea of death doesn't appeal to most people, in fact I'm sure of it. Not only is there the fear of the unknown but also the fear of being forgotten, of the world carrying on without us. I've struggled with believing in You since Calvin died, something I'd never, ever thought I'd find myself saying. You see, I've ALWAYS believed in You and could always say when asked, "Yes, I believe in God." I wish I could still say those words with the same conviction I once had but I'm no longer the same person I once was though either...

To be honest, I don't think I've ever gotten over being pissed at you. It's been a long and lonely road these past seven years, and it all goes back to when Shane and I started trying to have our family. I remember the joy and excitement I felt when I first learned Shane and I were pregnant for the first time only to have that joy turn to fear and uncertainty when I started bleeding a week later. I begged You to save my baby. I sat in the back pew of St. Ann's Church sobbing and begging You to intervene on behalf of my unborn child and I miscarried anyway. It wasn't that moment or any other particular moment after that caused me to lose faith in You. I guess you could say that it was a culmination of hurt and pain over the six miscarriages and loss of my son that did it in the end. I tried to hold onto my faith, I really did and part of me still wants more than anything to believe in You. Many, many people have offered up "excuses" as to why my son had to die, why You didn't heal him when You could have. I don't believe it one bit when people tell me that "God doesn't give you more than you can handle". It's a crock. A cop-out. I've had way more than I have been able to handle and I am damaged emotionally because of the things I've been through in my pursuit of simple happiness. I don't think I will ever be "fixed" or can ever be made whole again. How could I be? Each child we lost took a piece of my heart with them when they went. Calvin's death ripped my soul wide open...It's been almost two years God, two years of doubting in You, in being angry at You and in living without my son. Some days I'm surprised I've survived. I bet You are too.

As Calvin's Angel Day approaches all I can do is hold out hope. Hope that by some miracle I will get a sign, a reassurance that my son lives with You in Heaven and that we will be together some day. Hope that I find a measure of peace in this coming week and a feeling of comfort in knowing that my son is remembered and loved. Hope that I have survived this nightmare for some divine reason...because if it were my way, it wouldn't have happened. If it were MY way, Calvin would be blowing out candles on his birthday cake with Georgia on Wednesday. If it were MY way, I would have no knowledge of this babylost community and all the pain and suffering that these other women I've come to know and love have been through. If it were MY way, I'd never be torn between believing and a sense of utter abandonment. Are You there God? If you are, please help me make it through the dreaded anticipation of next week, and tell my boy I love him.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-09-08T09:53:00.001-07:00

In A Lonely Place

2010-09-04T23:57:00.000-07:00

I guess I've been MIA. I've been busy, we've had company, I've been getting out with the girls and having family fun. All this joy and fun and yet I'm in a lonely place and I'm isolating. I'm rarely interacting with anyone lately with any substance and I think I've been doing it to avoid some of the feelings I've been having that I don't really want to deal with. I'm at a crossroads in my life right now and I don't know in which direction I'm headed and it's scary. The last two years feel like a dream. A drugged out crazy dream. Since stepping out from beneath the haze I've had a couple of harsh reality checks and I'm feeling like I'm just not happy. I need more in my life....but more what? I need more acknowledgement of Calvin and his loss for one. That's a huge one. And something I'm just beginning to realize now. It's been almost two years and I'm still in unbelievable pain. I'm still in disbelief. I'm still wondering why and I'm still angry that it happened to us. My son is dead. To me it's the most horrifying feeling in the world to be walking around with all this pain, afraid that one day you'll start screaming and never be able to stop. And yet I don't talk about it. I don't talk about him. About a month ago I got rip roaring drunk with some girls I went to highschool with and we ended up sharing a table with a bunch of guys at the bar. We talked with these guys for quite a long time around the table and when the subject of drugs came up I ended up in a frank discussion with two of them about my painkiller addiction. When I was asked why I had become addicted to painkillers, Calvin was brought up in the conversation. My friend was horrified that I would discuss my dead baby with strangers and she made it perfectly clear that she was embarassed and that the topic was "inappropriate". My liquid courage fortifying my defiance at her attempt to shut me up, I deliberately and in more detail described why my life was so fucked up that the only way I could cope was to numb the pain with pills. It made me angry. It also shamed me. I felt like I had pissed on her parade by bringing him up and for the first time since Calvin's death I experienced outright how unacceptable it was for me to discuss my dead child. Most people are so subtle about not wanting to discuss him. Their subtlety comes disguised in avoidance. Avoid us, avoid the topic, avoid serious discussions. I feel like I'm dancing through life in a minefield. Tip-toeing to avoid embarassing people, making them uncomfortable, making them sad, ruining their day, their high, their nite out. So I've been avoiding. Avoiding talking about him, avoiding making plans for my future, avoiding having deep conversations with anyone, avoiding facing my unhappiness. I'm lonely. I have such a shitload of stuff I need to dump, questions I need answered, decisions I need to make and yet I've gone MIA and avoided forming any sort of connection that would help me through some of this. Why? Because it hurts. Because life isn't always pretty and there aren't always happy endings. I know this. My head knows this. My heart is afraid of going there again. But in a way, it's been there all along. The wound of losing my son hasn't even begun to heal yet and it's been almost two years. It's something that people can't even begin to comprehend most of the time, thank God, but it makes it sooooo difficult to get any compassion. The world of people who have never experienced the loss of a child can't begin to understand the ripple effect, how in my case, Calvin's death has affected absolutely every area of my life. I'm not the same parent to my other children, not the same wife to my husband, not the same friend now that my life has been irrevocably changed. I'm different. I don't know if I even want the same things out of life anymore that I did before we lost Calvin. It sucks. I'm here and it's such a devastatingly lonely place to be. And I'm wondering if I will ever get out...

Everyone But Me

2010-08-25T17:02:00.000-07:00

There seems to be a baby boom in the babylost community as of late. There is nothing more joyful to me than seeing the announcement that another member of our elite club is expecting again. To me it signifies hope. The return of joy and promise. I hold my breath waiting to hear that everything is going to work out for those mamas and their pregnancies, often weeping tears of joy when the babies arrive safe and happy into arms that have ached to hold a child for oh so long. However I must say that lately those announcements of joy have brought a tinge of angst and sadness with them. It feels like everyone is getting pregnant and experiencing that joy and hope and promise for tomorrow except me. I was a fool to tie my tubes knowing full well my son's health was in question. I was a fool to have faith that the doctors could fix his broken heart and that we would live happily ever after, a family of five. I'm desperately wishing for another child. Each and everyday Georgia and Lorelei grow more independent, less reliant on me. Georgia is almost not a baby anymore, her sturdy legs carrying her as fast as she can away from me at times. It stings. I want another child but am so unsure of how to proceed or whether I should even bother.

Reading Birni's latest post at All the Little Ponies brought up alot of old feelings for me. It reminded me of my own heartache and disappointment as Shane and I first tried to conceive a child and I repeatedly miscarried. It reminded me of how my pregnancy with Lorelei was spent in total fear and anxiety that I would get to the end with no live baby and how that fear almost became a reality when I suffered a partial placental abruption and needed an emergency c-section to get her out alive. It reminded me of the shock and extreme loss I felt losing a baby girl to Turner Syndrome after Lorelei and before I became pregnant with Calvin and Georgia. The fear so strong you can taste it's bitterness in your mouth and you wonder whether you are the only person on earth afraid to move, cough, sneeze while pregnant lest you start bleeding again. I remember feeling a huge sense of failure at learning that Calvin would be born with a severe heart defect and that he might also be mentally impaired when they suspected he had DiGeorge Syndrome. Why can't I make babies properly? Feelings like this were what drove me to tie my tubes on the delivery table after the births of our twins, the fear of failure, of having two pregnancies back to back with genetic problems. Fear that I was too old to produce another child without problems and yet here I am today yearning beyond belief for another child. I want another baby. It's all I can think about lately and I wonder if I'm being unrealistic and ungrateful for not being satisified with the two beautiful girls I do have. I remember telling someone that I didn't feel "done" having kids when I had my tubes tied, that there was no feeling that "this is it, I don't want anymore". It was all about the fear and not knowing if I could cope with another loss. So why, why oh why am I wanting another child so badly after all I've been through? Why does each and every announcement of a new pregnancy bring that twinge of sadness that it's not happening to me and what the hell am I gonna do to deal with this? Is there anyone else out there that has decided not to have any more children after their loss? Is there anyone else who regrets their decision to sterilize themselves out of fear? How do I cope with the possibility that maybe I will never have another child of my own? I'm feeling sad and desperately alone in this right now and I don't know how to find the answers I'm seeking....

Today I Wept

2010-08-15T13:20:00.000-07:00

It's been so long since I've blogged that when I sat down and actually thought about it this morning I realized it was because I've been living again, enjoying my summer and seeing friends and loved ones more frequently. It's been a nice feeling and one that I've learned to enjoy and accept for what it is with little guilt or regret. I've been to visit Calvin more often in the past few months than ever before and the quiet time I share with my son at his grave has become important in my healing. I miss him alot. And while I think of Calvin everyday, often several times over the course of my day, it's not often that I speak of him anymore. Not in any depth anyways until today. As I was chatting with a friend on the phone today, the subject of God was raised, my friend professing to not believe. Having struggled with my own personal beliefs in God since losing Calvin, I posed the question "So where do you think we go when we die?"

Asking this question brought me back to my own desperate wish to believe in God and His Kingdom following Calvin's death. As I walked backwards down the road of my childhood and the values I was raised with I realized that as a child I had never questioned God's existence, it was something I accepted as part of my life. It wasn't until I started losing people I loved that I began to question first God's goodness, second His existence. As I started to explain to my friend that as a mother who has lost her child, my desperate wish to believe in Heaven simply so that I may one day see my beautiful boy again, the tears began to fall. The next thing I knew, I was sobbing. Because I do want to believe. Because I do miss Calvin more than I realize at times and that there are so few people that I truly speak indepth with about him. Because it had been so long since the last time I cried that the floodgates were opened and all the hurt and doubt and fear came pouring out into that sympathetic ear. After explaining my want to believe and the struggle I've had with my faith, I asked another question...."Where do you go when you truly need comfort?" My answer to that question was to God. To church. To a place where I can lay my deepest sorrows in the Hands of the Creator and trust that in time things will work themselves out. I recalled days of being overcome with sorrow where I would find myself in a pew at the church praying, asking God to please, please just make things better for me and I realized that while God has never made any direct promises to me, that in whatever situation I had found myself in seeking God's guidance, that things eventually always got better. Things HAVE been better in my life, better than they have been in almost two years yet the pain is still there just under the surface waiting to be reawakened again. Surprising but not. Given a mother's love for her child and it's infinite boundaries, I expect the pain to be as just as limitless. Perhaps all I needed to feel that rush of pain, that rush of sweet sorrow and longing for my son was to open my heart back up to believing. Perhaps the comfort I seek in God is disguised in pain, having to feel it, eat it, sleep it, breathe it before healing can begin. Perhaps this is yet another message reconnecting me to the sorrow, reaffirming my need for spiritual direction and guidance. Maybe this was God's Hand gently guiding me back....today I wept for my son and oddly it felt good.

Two Years Ago Today

2010-07-21T16:26:00.001-07:00

We learned of Calvin's heart defect in utero. I've been feeling weepy all day at the remembering. Revisiting the fear and devastation as we sat down with the pediatric cardiologist, revisiting the anger as we sat down with the geneticist who offered to terminate my pregnancy with risk to Georgia's life also. Revisiting the hope we had for our precious son. It's been a rollercoaster of a day. Sometimes I can't believe my life has carried on this long since losing him but then there are days like today where it all feels like yesterday. How I miss him. I love you Calvin.

What's Been Going On Here

2010-07-05T15:20:00.000-07:00

Well it's been a terribly long time since I last blogged, truthfully my mind has been elsewhere these past couple of months. Getting off painkillers has been rewarding but has also come with a downside. While I am clearheaded now and able to enjoy my days with the girls with no memory gaps or feeling unmotivated, the lack of fog made some of my memories hard to deal with. The emotions involved in Calvin's death and the chaos that came in it's wake are still very real, very strong and on some days very hard to cope with. It's amazing to me that over eighteen months later I could still feel the sadness as strongly as the day he took his last breath in my arms. It's been overwhelming at times, these rushes of sadness that rear their heads when I'm least expecting it. I've gone to the cemetery more in the last two months than I have since my son died. It's not a bad thing though, I find I'm communicating with Calvin about my feelings alot more than I was and that talking to him is a good release. I've also been finding small comfort in cleaning his headstone, making sure his flowers are still living and just spending quiet time alone with my son. I need it. I find I'm needing time with just him, to talk, to grieve, to assuage my guilt.

We are also struggling financially right now and it's been a tough few months. Shane's business hasn't been going well since we lost Calvin and since the recession hit. We've had to cut back our lifestyle and eliminate alot of luxuries, even some necessities to make ends meet lately. It sucks. I've been feeling pretty stressed about money, one burden I haven't had to worry about for a long time now and I dislike how I feel when I'm constantly worrying about bills. There has also been added pressure from family to participate in things we can't really afford which has added to the stress. It's hard to say no when you're being asked to do something especially when help is offered but you know they don't see the entire picture. Yes, we may not spend any money on hotels but there is the expense of food, parking, gas, lost wages etc. that we need to look at as well. Unfortunately Shane lost out on some work at a resort because we felt pressured by family to take a trip. Learning to be assertive and not feel like I'm being a party-pooper if I say no is going to be tough, but we are now in a no choice position. I hate feeling this way but I know if we don't do everything we can to ease ourselves through these tough times it's going to be harder in the longrun for our family.

This past week we also had some friends come in from out of town to visit which was a welcome break from my self pity party. They pitched a tent in the backyard, bought their own food and drink and basically "camped" at our house for a week. I can't remember the last time I laughed so much, and it was good to get out of myself again. And while I was truly sorry to see our friends pack up and leave, at the same time it was nice to get back into our routine with the girls after they were gone. So far the weather has been completely crappy and we haven't been able to enjoy alot of our summer yet, in fact it's rained out here for eight weeks straight give or take a few days here and there. The weather alone I'm sure has contributed to my feeling of melancholy, who needs to wear a sweater in July? Lol....Anyhow, I'm holding out hope for some sun and being able to do all the free wonderful things you can do in the summer like going to the beach with the kids. Taking them to the park and sitting in the backyard watching them play in the sprinkler. The girls are growing so fast right now, changing daily before my very eyes and it's these precious days with them that I want to make memories, despite the fact that we are struggling financially right now.

Overall, while some things are better, coping with a new reality has been my biggest hurdle lately. Trying to stay positive and hopeful that things will get better for our family is my main focus right now and although I've been very much out of touch with some of you, I do think about you and your babies and want you all to know you hold a special place in my heart. Always.

Remembering Dad...

2010-06-20T17:47:00.000-07:00

I'm missing my Dad today. Today, Father's Day of all days....it might seem like an odd comment but my Dad wasn't the best person in the world. In fact we spent the better part of my adult life estranged from one another until the last two years of his life when we had reconciled. It's a bittersweet day for sure, not only for me missing my dad, but for our family also missing Calvin. Today I choose to remember some of the sweeter moments in my life with both my father and my son and to picture them together, celebrating fatherhood in Heaven.

I still remember the all consuming love I had for my dad as a child. As a little girl who only got to see her dad on weekends, my time with my father was precious and much looked forward to. I still remember Saturday mornings spent anxiously waiting by the window for my dad's black sedan to pull up, excited to find out what we would be doing for our day together. More often than not, we spent the day with my father's Dad, my grandpa, in Ridgetown On, where he had retired from the funeral business. My grandpa was a good man, a hardworking man respected very much in his hometown and his house was a safe haven for my dad to bring me on his visitations. Many days were spent outside my grandfather's house playing on the swingset, chasing butterflies and catching bugs and were usually finished off with a pizza and pop before the trip home. As a child, I understood that my father had a drinking problem but it never bothered me. My dad was extremely kind and loving and throughout my childhood, I remember him spanking me only once for misbehaving. He often told me that he didn't want to wreck his one day with me by having to dicipline me and thus I got away with much more than I ever should have. I knew I had my father wrapped around my finger, and remember with fondness how he used to ask me "Who'd ya get your brown eyes from Margie???" to which I always replied "You Daddy". It used to make him smile in delight that I looked so much like him with my big brown eyes. I adored him. I truly did and wished with all my heart that he and my mother would reconcile some day and that we would live together as a family happily ever after. It never happened suffice to say and in my teenage years my father's alcohol addiction brought about abuse and mental health issues that jaded my feelings towards the smart man who had given me life. It saddens me to think of some of our past exchanges and the hurt feelings that came round after but I also feel a sense of peace that my father and I had mended the proverbial fence before he passed away in 2002.

I remember so well one of the last conversations I had with my father over the phone. He was living back in Ontario and I was newly married and about to be separated from my first husband. Dad had called to tell me his number would be out of service, that I wouldn't be able to reach him there for awhile. He was deliberately vague with me about what was happening so I didn't press him for details. He gave me a new number and extension to call him at and amused, I imagined he was going to jail for awhile, that something he had done had landed him in hot water yet again. We talked once or twice after that and then we lost touch. The number and extension he had given me were no longer working and I assumed he would be in touch when the time was right for him. At the beginning of February 2002, I received a phonecall from a woman who didn't identify herself and who's accent was very thickly Asian. I could barely understand what she was calling to tell me about, but one thing she said stands out. She told me my dad was very sick. Not understanding her and not knowing what was going on, I simply thanked her for telling me and hung up the phone. He died later that month from lung cancer. When the funeral director who had apprenticed under my grandfather called to notify me of my father's death, he told me that my dad wanted to spare me the agony of knowing he was so ill and so far away. He chose to keep his illness to himself and because of that, died alone. My heart broke. It broke for my dad, it broke for me, it broke because his life had ended so sadly. When I flew out that July to bury his ashes, I was the only attendee at the funeral. It was a huge statement to me about the life he had lived, the people he had mistreated over the years and it brought me back to the days where he was a kind and doting father and I wept. So many things can go wrong in life, just as I imagined I would never see the day where I lost either of my parents, I also never imagined that in later years I would lose my only son.

When my children were born, part of the agony in my heart was the fact that with my mother in the terminal stages of MS and my father in Heaven, that my children would never know their grandparents. When Calvin died, I couldn't imagine who would be taking care of him in Heaven because I remembered the Father who had let me down, who had broken my trust. I forgot about the loving Dad who would sit with his child on his lap for hours telling stories, the dad who smelled of cigarettes and beer and some wonderful aftershave. Today when I think of Calvin, I imagine him with that Dad, the Dad who loved his child more than anything in the world and it warms my heart. I know God is keeping them both safe in His embrace and it brings me a measure of comfort. For those missing their Dads today and their children too...warm hugs, a peaceful heart and happy memories be with you.

Pray

2010-05-30T02:10:00.000-07:00

Baby Mira's treatment at Children's Hospital isn't working. Her parents have brought her home and are hoping to find a clinic somewhere in the world that can help their precious daughter. Please, if any of you know of a good clinic that specializes in medulla blastoma or brain cancer, message me so that I can forward the information to Ragne. And please, please pray for baby Mira....she needs a miracle.

Geoff

2010-05-19T20:57:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted in awhile. My Mother's Day and birthday were the focus of my dread last week, willing them both to cheerfully go away if I could. Then they both happened, despite my best intentions for them not to come and the day surprisingly was uneventful and peaceful....for the most part. I say for the most part because it was not my dreaded thirty-nineth birthday or Mother's Day that actually put a heaviness in my heart that day, it was my husband's friend Geoff. Geoff committed suicide on my birthday. On Mother's Day, at the age of thirty. It was a sobering end to a night spent in the warm embrace of family, in good company. Having had a spur of the moment family dinner at my inlaws house, we had gotten home late and I had just retired to the bedroom computer to "check my FB" to view my birthday wishes and there it was....in the form of a status update..."RIP Geoff".

WTF? I was stunned. Immediately saddened and then angry that my husband's friend's death was a status update on FB. I wondered where the etiquette of phone calls had disappeared to, why my husband had to find out that a friend he knew since childhood had died via a FB update. Disturbing and sad. I felt a deep sense of sorrow for Geoff's mother who was spending her Mother's Day facing the news that her son had taken his own life. I was angry at his disregard for the timing of his decision. Committing suicide is a hard enough fate to accept, but learning that it was done on the day that celebrated motherhood was especially disquieting for me. Not wanting to hurt Shane with an angry outburst, I kept my feelings under wraps until the next day when many of us got together at a local pub for beer, hockey and quiet talk about Geoff's loss. Overhearing a comment about how we should "All give his mother some space....", I opened my mouth and disagreed. As a mother who also lost her son, the last thing I wanted at the time of Calvin's loss was silence. I wanted people to tell me that they were sorry. I wanted the comforting arms of loved ones and people who genuinely cared. I couldn't bear the thought that Geoff's mother would be facing his loss in solitude. "Call her," I said..."Let her know how much he meant to you...". It was what I wanted, and I'm sure she needed to hear words like that just as badly as I did at the time. I wanted to jump on my soapbox and educate my husband's friends about loss. I wanted to let them know how painful it is for a mother to lose her child, how no other pain in the universe comes close. I resisted the urge to lecture and instead quietly pleaded with a few to let Geoff's mother know he was loved. It saddens me to think he didn't know how much...

Remembering Him

2010-05-08T23:06:00.000-07:00

With Mother's Day looming tomorrow, I've been trying to keep myself occupied so that I didn't have to feel that empty longing in my heart for Calvin. I've tried to ignore the little nagging thoughts in my head that were telling me to go to his grave and remember him. Not that I don't remember him, I think about him every single day but the thoughts in my head were telling me I needed to focus, to think about my son, to make time for him and only him in my day today. As awful as this may sound, I don't think I went to the cemetery last year. Calvin's marker hadn't been installed yet and I don't think I could bear the thought of going to my child's grave on a day that celebrated motherhood. I'm pretty sure it ate me up inside...it always does when I think I should be going to see him and then I avoid it because I feel like a spectacle crying at his grave. Today Shane and I went together, just the two of us in the cold evening air to stand by our son's resting place. I felt uncomfortable. I felt it because I wanted to cry but didn't want to bring Shane down, because I didn't want to spoil our evening out by crying just before we went home. But my heart hurts. Not that all consuming hurt from a year ago, but kind of a hollow echo in my soul, an emptiness that I'm always aware of but learning to live with. Calvin has become a fleeting moment in my day instead of the centre of it, the focus of how I'm feeling and I feel guilty I suppose. Guilty that my life carries on without him. Guilty that I don't weep all the time anymore for him, guilty that some days I push thoughts of him away because I don't want to feel the pain. Part of me feels that a "good" mother would visit her son's grave every day, make sure there are fresh flowers and little decorations to tell the world how much he was loved. Part of me feels I should have an area in my house, a shrine, dedicated to his memory, a reminder of the pain and emptiness we live with. Part of me feels guilty for wanting to live again, to feel happy and experience joy. There is great guilt in healing.

I know that I have come to a fork in the road, a path that branches off in a new direction. I could easily continue along this path of darkness that I have walked for the last eighteen months but some spark inside me is fighting to stay alive. I no longer need to be medicated. I have conquered my addiction to painkillers and am finally drug free after months of weaning slowly off the pills. I have fought my way through withdrawl, through insomnia and the feeling of having the creepy crawlies all the time. I have managed to beat back the blanket of numb that has cloaked me since my son died and I am learning to live with the awareness that Calvin is missing from our lives. I am pursuing happiness again, actively making conscious decisions about where I want to go from here. I don't want to live under this dark cloud anymore. I don't want to spend my days inside, drugged out of my mind and letting life pass me by. I'm craving social interaction again, days out with friends, doing things with my girls, making memories with them instead of being focused on my six days with Calvin. I've come to realize that this time with my daughters I will never get back. I will never have the chance again to redo the things I should have done with them while I mourned the loss of my baby boy. I can't go back to last summer and take my girls to the beach. Mindful of these things, I stepped outside my comfort zone yesterday and bought a swimsuit even though I detest the extra weight I've put on since detoxing. Reminding myself that it's not about me all the time has become my latest mantra, something I say to myself to stay motivated for the sake of my daughters, to step outside my cocoon of comfort. So why am I so sad? Why is it that I'm feeling guilt over feeling better? Maybe part of me feels like it's a betrayal to Calvin, that denying him to be the focus of my life will make him disappear. Maybe I'm afraid of reaching that point where I feel nothing when I say his name, no sadness, no longing for the sweet baby boy who I will never hold again. Maybe I'm afraid of losing him all over again.

In any case, the dreaded Mother's Day is upon us again and despite my best intentions, I have to face the day without him. I am glad to have had my son, even if he lived only six days, even if Mother's Day fills me with melancholy for the life I wish we had had. Some whisper tells me that somewhere he is proud I loved him enough to let him go. And that it makes no difference that I am learning to live again. Somewhere I imagine he smiles....

I love you Calvin.

Mother's Day...

2010-05-06T12:42:00.000-07:00

Can fuckoff this year, it's also my thirty-nineth birthday and it can fuckoff too. No, I'm not feeling particularly down, I'm just not into celebrating either occassion. Woo-Hoo, I'm a Mother to a dead child and I'm on the way to forty...Let's kill two miserable occassions on the same day shall we???

I hate being old. And I hate living and celebrating parenting with a child in Heaven. Enough said.

Out of the Loop

2010-04-28T19:19:00.000-07:00

It seems as if I am out of the loop. I don't know how it happened or when but today I had the shocking revelation that there are ALOT of new babylost mamas in our community who I have never met. And suddenly I wonder if I have been following too many blogs to keep up with lately because it saddens me that I have not met some of you and extended my hand in friendship and support. I'm not only shocked by the sheer number of us out here, I'm saddened. It feels like I am a veteran of grief now, someone who has gone on before to hack away at some of the path in the journey for others to follow behind. I guess part of me was so busy looking ahead that I forgot to look back and take time to recognize those souls trudging the path behind me. With this bit of insight, I would like to ask if there are those of you reading who have lost a child and whom I haven't quite "met" yet, could you leave me a comment, let me know your child's name and a bit about yourself and I will make it a priority to stop by your blog to say hello, offer you a hug and let you know that I am here and that I care...because I do. Hugs to all the mamas, none of who should be walking this journey.

Small Victories

2010-04-26T22:42:00.000-07:00

Happiness is so fleeting at times, it seems that when I start feeling better something happens to knock the wind out of my sails and I'm feeling low again. Like what happened at H&R Block and that horrible woman that did my taxes. Thanks to your input, I placed a call to the government to find out exactly whether or not my son's short life "counted" as far as claiming him as a dependent. It turns out that it did, as many of you advised and I returned to H&R with Calvin's birth certificate in hand to have a word with them over their "error". It seems that the woman had already been advised that she had made a mistake when she told me that Calvin's short life did not count and that by not putting him as a dependent on my tax return, she had shorted me of about $2500 in child tax credit. When I arrived to speak with her, she had already done the amendment to my taxes and all that was needed was a copy of Calvin's birth certificate and my signature. She apologized profusely. Although I was somewhat miffed over her insensitive comments about Georgia, and Calvin "not counting", I felt somewhat vindicated.

I am almost off my meds as well. I'm down to the lowest dose twice daily but lately have only needed them to help transition to sleep. The withdrawl has been minimal and I'm thankful for that. It's not the nicest feeling in the world having the heebee-jeebees as you try to go to sleep. Another small thing to rejoice in. And really, it's a big thing because it lets me know that I can beat this thing, that my days of being fuzzed out and not remembering are coming to an end. I've been smiling more, feeling more emotion than I have in a long time and remembering how good it feels to laugh. This spring feels like a rebirth so far and I'm enjoying it.

There has also been a couple of serendipitous happenings in my life financially. Whew! It's been a tough winter and things are coming back together for construction and there is money to be made. And although money isn't everything, when you're used to having alot of it around and then suddenly are struggling, it's nice to get back into the swing of things. I'm learning also that there are things in my life that I can do without that I never imagined before. Material things. I've also learned that material things can never replace people, and that you cannot fill the void of missing someone by filling it with money or drugs or instant gratification. I'm trying not to fill the hole Calvin left in my life with things that don't really matter anymore. It's fruitless. However it seems that the less I fight the void, the less hold it has on me. I still miss my son with everything I have and I expect I always will. This new reality, however much I don't like it some days is becoming part of me, part of my life. The less focus I put on this new reality, and the more I just try to live again the less it rips me apart.

I have also been reminded lately by someone I admire that there is beauty all around us and it is ours for the taking. Today I took advantage of the rain and two sleepy children to crawl into bed myself and listen to the raindrops on the window as I drifted off to sleep. There were things I should have done but that can wait and the nap was as refreshing as the spring rain. My hope is coming back. Like the tide it ebbs and flows, but in this moment I feel it strong and defiant against the winter of loss as it begins to bloom again in my heart. I'm at peace today, and that in itself is another small, but important victory.

Non-Entity

2010-04-22T18:22:00.000-07:00

Shane and I were bereft in the fall of 2008 when our son died, so much so that nothing mattered more than getting through Christmas and trying to mourn while tending to Georgia's newborn needs. We holed up in our home for what seemed to be months, doing little except spending time with our girls, avoiding going out in public where our loss could be brought up in awkward places. With the focus so much on our grief and trying to survive it, certain areas in our lives became neglected, one area being that we didn't file our taxes for 2008. Today I took the opportunity of a few free hours to collect receipts, slips and forms and head down to our local tax preparation place to file my delinquent tax return. After dealing with a blatantly rude receptionist who sat on the phone talking to her friend about "yeah, we're all laid off as of May 15th and now I have to give up my apartment....", I sat down to wait for someone to come and get me. After about ten minutes, an overly friendly woman bounced around the corner and called my name. Her friendly demeanor changed within minutes of finding out that I hadn't filed for 2008 and she grumbled about having to file a paper return. While sitting across the desk from the woman about to file my taxes, I pulled out Calvin and Georgia's birth certificates and place them on her desk. With a blank stare, the woman looked from Calvin's certificate to me, to the certificate again without saying anything. Bluntly I asked her, "Can I claim my son as a dependent for 2008?", to which she replied, "I don't think so", as she shoved the document back towards me. "But he lived for six days", I said. "Yeah, I don't think that counts", was her answer. Numbly I put his birth certificate back in my purse and as she picked up Georgia's birth certificate she asked, "Is she dead too?".

I literally had to use every ounce of restraint to be polite in my reply. Gritting my teeth, I answered, "No, she's at home with me...". I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that this woman basically told me that my son's life "didn't count". That he could not be considered a dependent because he didn't live long enough. I'm angry. I'm hurt. I wanted to smash her fucking teeth in. I couldn't believe how casually she pushed Calvin's birth certificate towards me, the word Deceased seeming to leap off the top of the page. It was all she saw. All that mattered. My beautiful, perfect looking baby boy doesn't count because he's "Deceased". His birth certificate might as well have said "Diseased" by the way she was so quick to get it off her desk and back into my purse. I'm surprised she didn't go and wash her hands. Thanks so much H&R Block, thanks for turning an unpleasant experience into something that literally ruined my day. I'm glad your office is closing if this is the way your staff treats their clients. If the government really feels that my son doesn't count because he didn't live long enough, then perhaps I just won't file my frigging taxes again. Revenue Canada, go suck an egg.

For Mira

2010-04-16T23:15:00.000-07:00

Recently I reconnected with an old friend from highschool on Facebook. Ragne (pronounced Rainy) and I were in grade eight and nine together at a very, very small school. Remembering her from back then, I always think of her smile and her sweet, sweet personality. I was an outcast in school but Ragne never treated me that way. I still have pictures of us on the last day of grade nine sitting outside the school, waiting for our buses to come. Reconnecting with Ragne has been good, I told her a bit about our journey with Calvin and how his loss has been devastating to our family. She was touched and very sad to hear that we had lost our baby boy and couldn't imagine the pain we were facing. Ragne herself is a new mother, another one of my school chums to wait to have children in her mid-thirties. Ragne's daughter Mira is ten months old and beautiful. I ooh'ed and ahh'ed over Mira's pictures that Ragne had posted on Facebook, she is simply a stunning baby. Laughingly, I think I told Ragne that I know where Mira had gotten her beauty, Ragne was always a beautiful girl in school. Mistakenly, I had assumed they had issues conceiving because of a Facebook comment someone had written on Ragne's wall and when I asked her about it, she said nope, she just hadn't gotten married until recently and they had conceived almost immediately. Motherhood suits her beautifully and I know she absolutely adores her daughter.

It was through Facebook that I also discovered that Mira was facing surgery recently and when I sent Ragne one of those OMG, is everything okay? notes, Ragne wrote me back confiding in me that her world was falling apart. After taking Mira to a doctor's appointment because something just wasn't "right", Ragne found herself at Children's Hospital, being told her baby had a brain tumour. An MRI revealed it wasn't just one tumour, it was four and there was another at the base of her spine. Mira's surgery was a biopsy which came back as cancer. My friend is facing the worst time of her life, a time that should be carefree and filled with joy. Mira is facing the fight of her life. Ragne tells me that Mira will do five rounds of chemotherapy to shrink the tumours, after the second round they will do a repeat MRI to see if the tumours are shrinking. They have told her that Mira will probably have damaged hearing and infertility later in life due to the chemo. I cried when I read what this beautiful baby is facing. I cried for my friend and for how unfair life can be. I'm scared that Ragne will go through those terrifying moments of losing hope, losing faith and I wish I could protect her from it all. If there was a way I could make everything better for her I would. I've prayed for Mira. I've prayed harder for Mira than I have for anything since losing Calvin. I've prayed that God will spare Mira pain and suffering and that He will spare Ragne the pain of losing her only child. I am asking, please, please, please, if you believe in God to pray for this beautiful baby and her family. No parent should EVER go through what some of us have lived through and I want more than anything for my friend to be spared the worst pain in the world. Please pray for Mira.

Seventeen

2010-04-10T16:17:00.001-07:00

She was a dancing queen, young and free only seventeen....months that is. Happy seventeen months on earth my precious girl. You are my sunshine, my love, my heart's delight and I am so priviledged to be your mommy. The only thing that would make having you here better would be to have your twin brother Calvin here too. I miss him sweet girl and I can only imagine your spirit times two. I love you Georgia Leigh...Please say a prayer for my girl, she's very sick right now after being exposed to the liquid inside a teething ring that I found out last night has been recalled due to toxic contamination.

Babies

2010-04-07T23:14:00.000-07:00

We've just returned from Easter vacation with Shane's family in Alberta. It was a nice trip, far too much time spent in the car mind you, but nice to get away for a bit. My husband's family is huge, the Easter trip was a family reunion on his mother's side and there were something like forty people there. There were a few moments during the trip that made me feel that twinge of angst knowing that I will never have another child, another son. My husband's sister was there with her four month old baby boy, a darling little guy who is just so handsome and good natured. Watching Elijah creeping and trying to crawl on the grass outside in the backyard tugged at my heart, I miss Calvin so very much these days. Georgia is growing at an alarming rate, my baby now a full fledged toddler, still so very attached to mama but growing more and more independent every day. Watching my Georgia dancing, smiling, walking, running and playing this past week makes me realize how very fast she is changing and I wonder what Calvin would be doing with her had he lived. I'm afraid I made the most horrible mistake in getting my tubes tied because I don't feel as if I am done or ready to be done having babies. Seeing Elijah and baby Alayna being nursed, smelling their sweet smelling heads reminds me of how much I love the newborn stage and how soon my Georgia will no longer be my baby but my little girl. I wonder if I would be feeling the same if Calvin were here with us or whether I would be so exhausted from chasing after two toddlers that I wouldn't have time to think about another baby and how wonderful it would be to make another little person who looks like Shane and me.

I also feel like I am missing out on the expectant joy of pregnancy, that feeling of life inside and the miracle of knowing your baby as they kick and roll and hiccup in your belly. I loved being pregnant despite the stresses of having high risk pregnancies. I loved the feeling of the babies in my womb stretching and pushing and responding to my voice or the food I had eaten. I miss the joy of shopping for little sleepers and newborn clothes with the excitement of the impending birth. Maybe it's the possibility I also miss. Knowing that it's over for me is upsetting when so many women around me are getting pregnant and having babies. I want another baby. I want a son. I know that having a son wouldn't change the sadness I feel over missing Calvin and it wouldn't make his loss easier to bear, I just want a baby boy of my own. When I was pregnant with Lorelei, my dreams were of rough and tumble boys in dirty overalls and curly blonde hair flying in the wind. Of course I fell in love with the idea of having a girl when Lorelei's sex was determined during an ultrasound but I still had hope that eventually I would mother a fearless and adventurous boy. When I became pregnant with the twins, I hoped that at least one of the babies would be a girl because I had so much cute girl stuff from Lorelei that I didn't want to part with so when we found out that we were having a boy and a girl, I was in heaven. Then Calvin died and a piece of me died with him along with the dream of that dirty boy in overalls playing rough and tumble in the backyard. I wish things were different, above all I wish my son had lived. My beautiful, perfect boy with the broken heart, my Calvin. How I miss his presence in my life. The emptiness of his loss, my loss, echos through me during what should be happy moments in my life and leaves me feeling wistful for what should have been. He should have been there with us at that reunion, he should have been running amok and dancing in the backyard with Georgia and the other babes. It should be me that others look at and think..."She is so blessed, so lucky to have such beautiful babies", and make them want to have more children themselves. I can't seem to get over this longing and the feeling that I'm not done yet and I wonder just what the hell I've done....

Still Here

2010-03-26T14:25:00.000-07:00

I'm still here, struggling less, detoxing less, doing more. It's been awhile since I blogged and it's been eating at me. There is so much, yet so little happening in my life right now that I don't seem to have the time to sit down, take a breath and have some me time. I'm still missing Calvin horribly and have had a few good cries over him as of late, moreso at remembering...those memories that sneak up on you and take your breath away with their vividness. Some of those memories come from reading other blogs and having another mother talk about a certain situation that reminds me so much of what we went through that it takes me back in time to that moment. Stephanie talked about such a thing on her blog, about how when she went back to see Amelia in the funeral home, she knew her girl was gone. It reminded me so much of holding Calvin in the hospital morgue, feeling his spirit there with us strong and steady as I cuddled our son for the last time. The peacefulness about it was almost surreal, everything was so quiet and still and yet he lingered and I could feel him there with me. I didn't want to give him back. I didn't want to think about his body being put back in one of those stainless steel drawers, alone in the dark. All I could think about was seeing him again, possibly holding him before the funeral and willing myself to make it just one more day until I could be with my son again. The night of the viewing Shane and I went early. I wanted to make sure my son looked okay and that we were doing the right thing by giving the family a chance to come and say good-bye to him. I was eager to see him and was bewildered when the funeral director warned me that he wouldn't look the same as when I had held him in the morgue, that there had been changes. Sure enough as I gazed down into Calvin's casket and looked at my son there WERE changes, the biggest one being that my son was no longer there. His spirit had flown away and I couldn't feel him anymore. That was one of the hardest things, to realize that he was now gone for good and wouldn't be lingering around to give me comfort. I cried and gasped to Shane that it wasn't him, that it didn't even look like him but was forced to accept that while it was my son's body, his spirit had moved on. The memories have evoked a strong emotional response. I feel tired, and physically exhausted. I've been forcing myself outside to do yard work, to get some fresh air and sunshine in these past beautiful days. It's been good for me yet I've been so wiped out I've had little energy for anything else lately.

Even in my current state of exhaustion and with a spring cold coming on, I feel guilt for not posting and for leaving on such a "I don't care about anything" note. I'm still here. I'm still reading along with many of you even if I don't comment. I'm still fighting this addiction and hoping to feel better soon. I'm still hoping for joy in my life again. It's coming back, slowly, but it is coming back. I can only hope tomorrow will be better than today and that the day after tomorrow will be better than it's yesterday until all is well in my world as much as it can be without Calvin in it. I miss my son. His death still makes me cry and even if people think that there must be "a reason" for it, it doesn't make me get over him or the void left behind when he died. If the people in my life could just recognize this and realize that I will never be the same again and accept it for what it is, I think my life could be easier. Not necessarily better, but easier. Until such a thing happens, I vomit all the unhappiness here where I can simply be bereaved and not expected to be "getting over it" by now. How can I? How can any of us? The answer is that we can't and that there will always be a story, a movie, a remark made that throws us back to the days when our children died and it will always hurt. Sometimes the hurt will make us cry and not feel like living, other times it won't. I accept this. I don't like it but I accept it and there is nothing ANY platitude will do to make this better for me or any one of us. I'm still here, even though there are days I wish I wasn't.

Feeling Down

2010-03-14T12:08:00.000-07:00

Fifteen. It's the number of pounds I have gained since I started weaning off my meds. I am withdrawing and feeling so tired and slow and emotionally unstable right now. I am eating my way into oblivion and will face another battle ahead to shed some of this weight. It's not easy right now, some days I feel as if I don't want to do this. What "this" is varies from day to day, some days it's detoxing, other days it's living. I miss Calvin horribly right now and had a good hard cry the other night in my misery. I loathe this extra weight yet I cannot seem to stop stuffing food in my face at an alarming rate. I feel fragile and messed up and hopeless some days and wonder if things will ever get good again. I know Shane is worried about me, there is little he can do or say to make me feel better right now and I know my emotional state is keeping him at bay. I don't know whether all of this comes from coming off the meds, why I'm craving sugar the way I am right now, why I'm so tired and emotional. For the first time since we first lost Calvin, I felt like I didn't want to live anymore. I am so tired of feeling so down, so broken. It's so horrifying to me to feel this way, like I don't care whether I live or die anymore because I am so miserable. I think I may need to see my doctor...

Disconnected

2010-03-10T12:49:00.000-08:00

Things are not okay with me right now. I've been stressed about numerous things in my life lately and have been just coasting through my days. Things came to a head this weekend when two things happened, Shane and I had a heartfelt discussion about the state of our lives and Lorelei, my four year old accused me of not loving her anymore. I'll explain...

Since Calvin died, both Shane and I have been completely unmotivated in every area in our lives. His business has all but been neglected, we've stopped socializing, our house is a disaster and we hardly talk anymore about things that matter. We have made numerous attempts to get our lives back on track only to slip into the same old apathy we've been swimming in for the last sixteen months. When we moved to Vancouver during the last three months of my pregnancy, we packed up our home and Shane's brother Greg and his wife Trisha moved in to help us out. We needed our dog to be taken care of, Greg and Trisha took over paying our electricity bill and we paid the rent. We were only able to do this because of the help we received from local service clubs, The Lions Club and the Knights of Columbus. Those two clubs paid our rent in Vancouver so that we could keep our home and have a place to come back to. When Calvin died and we packed up and moved home it took months of walking around boxes before I finally began to unpack our things from Vancouver. During the last year, I haven't even made an attempt to unpack the boxes we left here at the house with our pictures, seasonal clothes etc and my craft room has been overtaken in a mess of boxes and disorganization. Shane has been working hard to find work and finally he is beginning a new job as of today. With his determination to get our lives turned back around we ended up having a discussion about where we've been this past year and why we aren't progressing. He opened up about his frustration with the lack of progress we've made in sorting out the house and the fact that we are still walking around things that are boxed up. He also mentioned that he felt we were experiencing a profound sense of disconnect from our lives and each other. He's right. I've had little interest in doing anything lately, including blogging which is the one thing that kept me going in the early days of our grief. While I am still weaning off the pain meds, I've done little else to change the things that are dragging us down. I cried when I realized that it's true, that I have been disconnected from him, from Lorelei, from my life in general. I don't know if it's because I'm afraid of living my life without Calvin and so I'm coasting through my days, not enjoying things or if it's just because the apathy has become easier than confronting the things that need attention. I wish I could undo all the hurt we've been through this past year but I can't and I don't know how I'm going to find the enjoyment that's been missing from my life again.

Not only did Shane bring up the disconnect between us and our lives but the same day my beautiful girl accused me of not loving her anymore. Since losing Calvin, I have been completely immersed in Georgia. She and I have a bond I never had with Lorelei as a baby. I think because I was so grief stricken over Calvin, I poured all my love into caring for Georgia. At first I attributed Lorelei's comments of "Mom, stop kissing Georgia" to sibling rivalry and figured that in time she would get over it. During the last months, Lorelei's behaviour has been at best challenging and at worst very difficult to cope with. She has become rude, defiant and full of attitude and in frustration I've taken to ignoring her tantrums and bad manners. She is difficult to love on days when she is being mean to her sister, yelling at me or giving me attitude. Oftentimes I have sent her upstairs to watch movies or deny her the opportunity to help me with the things I'm doing because she makes more work for me. When I was sitting feeding Georgia and she came and asked me to do something with her the other day and I answered my usual "Not right now honey, I'm feeding Georgia", she snapped. Pacing the livingroom she went on a rant about how I don't love her, I just love Georgia. She said that one day I would just put her out in the garbage and that I wouldn't miss her. I cried. I put Georgia down and gathered Lorelei into my lap and told her that I would always love her and that we would never put her out into the garbage. I told her that Georgia doesn't replace her or make me love her any less. I cried with her and told her how much I love her and how sorry I was for not making as much time for her as I should have and for making her feel like Georgia was more important to me. I felt terrible and I still do. My little girl has suffered from losing Calvin and from the things that have happened in our family since. She's seen me cry more than any child should have to see their mother cry and in my grief I have not been the mother I should be for her. I'm not the person I can be, not the wife, not the mother, not the friend I should be. I've been working on numbing myself to the pain for so long that I've numbed myself to the good things in my life as well. It was a terrible revelation and it made me feel ashamed of myself. I WANT desperately for my life to feel good again, for it to feel somewhat normal. I have to stop turning inward and isolating myself from my family, from my friends, from life. I'm scared. I don't know how to be happy anymore and any joy I have felt in my life has been shortlived. How does anyone find happiness after losing a child? How does anyone move forward with anticipation of good things to come? How do you get past the survival instincts and self preservation to be there for the people in your life that need you the most? I need some answers, some advice...Please.

I'm an Auntie Again...

2010-03-04T15:11:00.000-08:00

I'm exceptionally tired. Greg called at seven thirty yesterday morning to let me know that Trisha had dialated to four centimetres during the night and that they were putting her back on the drip at eight thirty am. In a rush I got dressed and headed down to the hospital. By the time I got there, another woman in full labour had come in eight centimetres dialated and they had turned Trisha's drip off. We visited, paced and waited and finally at two pm the doctor came and put Trisha back on the oxytocin. By five pm Trisha was five centimetres and the doctor felt that she was progressing well and that she should be ready to push by ten pm if all went well. As Trisha's contractions grew stronger and more productive, I rubbed her back and hips with massage oil as Greg counted with her and reminded her to breathe through the contractions. I was absolutely amazed as she was so focused and quiet. By six o'clock she had dialated another centimetre and was in more pain so she was offered the gas to help her through the contractions. It was remarkable to me that she had come this far with no pain relief with her contractions coming fast and furious in pairs every two minutes. By eight o'clock Trisha was eight centimetres dialated and the pain was getting too much so she opted for the epidural. Unfortunately the medication never took perfectly the first time and within twenty minutes she had to have a second dose. After her epidural was working, the nurses suggested that Greg and Trisha get some rest before she had to start pushing so I took the opportunity to grab a tea and read a bit of a book in the waiting room. At ten pm when I hadn't seen either Greg or Trisha's mother Sue, I headed back to the birthing room and walked in to the doctor examining her. At this point he decided she was ready to push so I ran to find Greg and get back as soon as possible.

Trisha started pushing at ten o'clock. By eleven, the doctor realized the baby was still not in the correct position and that Trisha was going to need some assistance. He discussed a forceps delivery with her and told her it would depend on the baby descending further down the birth canal and let her know he had also called the ob/gyn to examine her. Within minutes, I knew something very serious was happening as the ob/gyn began to examine her. He asked for a scalp clip to monitor the baby's heartrate and asked for the ultrasound machine to be sent in. When he inserted his fingers to check the baby's position, he asked when the last time Trisha's temperature had been taken and after checking her temperature informed her she had developed some infection around the baby and that baby was in distress. At that point he told her that there was no way the baby could be born vaginally because she was stuck on Trisha's pubic bone because of the way the baby's head was facing. Within seconds, Trisha was being prepped for an emergency caesarean, thankfully she already had the epidural in place or it would have been under general anesthesia. I can't describe how worried and emotional I was at that point. Trisha was exhausted and bitterly disappointed that after all she had done to birth the baby that it had come to this. However, by this time and with the worry of the baby being under distress, the birth took a back seat to the safety of mother and child. As she was wheeled down the hall to the operating room I began to shake and realized just how worried and upset I was for my beautiful sister in law. It felt like it had been such an emotional journey already. At one point during her contractions, I had joked about how I would have to get my newborn baby fix from her children, Trisha began to cry. She told me she missed Calvin and how sorry she was that my beautiful baby had died and that I wouldn't be having any more babies. Thankfully her back was to me at the time because I was massaging her so that she didn't see the tears that I just couldn't stop running down my face. And now I was scared for her and the baby. I felt so helpless going from being part of the experience to having to wait for her to come out of surgery. We had been told that her section would only take about twenty minutes because she was already catheterized, shaved and the epidural was in place. The time seemed to drag as me and the rest of the family sat in the waiting room. When an hour had passed and still no sign of Trisha or baby I was becoming more and more fearful. Finally, Greg and the nurses came rushing down to the nursery with the baby, a beautiful pink baby girl they named Alayna Nadine. As Alayna was getting checked, poked, weighed and put into the system, Greg explained that the spinal did not go well the first time at which point they had given Trisha a local anesthetic as well. The local, the spinal and the medication she had already received in the epidural froze her well past her chest and as Trisha had a sip of water in the recovery room after her surgery she choked and couldn't cough. For those reasons, the birth had taken a majorly long time and Trisha stayed in recovery until three am. When she was out and brought back to her room, I told her I loved her but had to go. I was and am so tired still from all the emotional stress. I am beyond happy for my brother and sister in law and so proud of them for handling their birth experience so calmly after all they ended up facing, realizing that in the end, the birth is just a means to an end and all that matters is that their beautiful baby girl was born alive and well. Thanks so much for all your well wishes, prayers and kind words, they were truly appreciated.

Finally

2010-03-02T09:52:00.000-08:00

Trisha's water broke at 1:30 am and she is in the hospital waiting for her labour to begin. Could everyone say a prayer for my sister in law that she have a good delivery with no complications and that she gets a screaming healthy baby in the end??? I'll update once the birth is over. Thanks...

Update: It's just about eleven thirty pm and I'm home from the hospital. Trisha had been on oxytocin all day and by nine this evening her contractions were coming every thirty seconds but upon examination, the doctor discovered the baby has gone transverse and that Trisha had only dialated two centimetres in eight hours. They've turned the drip off and we'll start again in the morning after Trisha gets some rest. It's been a long and painfully frustrating day for my sister in law who endured nine hours of pain for naught. Please keep her in your thoughts so that she may have a productive, easy labour tomorrow. Hugs to all...

Pride

2010-02-25T11:52:00.000-08:00

It's been a bit since I've blogged, I admit I'm slacking right now. Not that I'm by any means healed or have run out of things to say, I have just been so caught up in something so foreign and odd to me it's been overwhelming. I'm sure you may be wondering just what the heck I'm talking about and I know it's going to sound bizarre but here goes....

Right now, at this time in my life I am experiencing pride and love for my country, my province and the city of Vancouver (which we called home while waiting for our twins), our athletes and the Olympic games. As most Canadians, I have lacked that sense of Rah Rah!!! patriotism we often find bizarre in our American friends. Truthfully, the Canadian sense of patriotism is at best ambivalent most of the time, most of us while appreciative of our country don't get too excited at the singing of the national anthem or puff out our chests in pride at the mention of our flag. The usual attitude in Canada can mostly be described as ..."Oh well....". No great enthusiasm, no strong feelings of love for the soil we stand on, no excitement over all things Canadian, except maybe our beer which we find superior to that of our southerly neighbours. To me, Canadian patriotism can best be described as "intellectual" as opposed to "emotional". While we KNOW we are so lucky to live in this great melting pot of a nation and that we are FORTUNATE to have the freedoms and tolerances we are so well known for, that sense of knowing comes with a sense of detachment. As a country, we DON'T get overly patriotic, perhaps it's because we are too polite to pick up our pom poms, make a scene and yell, "Yay Canada!" I have often giggled at the enthusiasm of our American friends who mist up during the Star Spangled Banner, who tout the American pride with their flag waving, anthem singing and their deep convictions about their homeland. But this week, that all has changed...I have been mesmerized by the games, caught up in a feeling of national pride unlike any other I have felt before. Suddenly it all makes sense to me and I too have that swelling in my chest that makes me long to run into the streets of Vancouver waving my flag and wearing my maple leaf. It's been eye opening and emotional and wonderful having the games here in my home province. I am so proud to be a Canadian right now. I am so proud of my country and the city of Vancouver. I am in AWE of our athletes, especially our WOMEN athletes who have captured eleven and a half out of the fifteen medals we have won so far (the half being Tessa Virtue/Scott Moir ice dance champions). That is SO amazing!!! Our women rock.

So I admit, I've been glued to the television for the last week and a half since the Olympic games started. I've discovered a passion inside myself for the spirit of competition, the joy of victory, the breathlessness of wondering if the athlete representing your country can find it in themselves to pull out the best performance of their life under all the pressure to succeed. I see the dancing and celebrations in the streets and wish with all my heart I was there celebrating this little bit of history too. Because I'm not there right now, my butt is wearing holes in my side of the sectional as I sit for hours flipping between arial skiing, hockey, speedskating and ice dance. I fly my Olympic flag from my minivan as I run about town getting snacks and supplies to last as we cheer on our athletes from the comfort of our livingroom. I held my breath as our hometown girl and friend of my husband, Kristi Richards went all out during the women's moguls and then wept when she fell and finished dead last. I was so disappointed for her yet so proud. She displayed the heart of a champion as she got up, dusted herself off and while knowing her dreams of a medal were over, finished her jump with a spectacular trick that made us cheer. Forget the polite murmurings of "Well done", instead we drink our Molson Canadian and yell loudly at the set, jumping up and down when we score or win or just miss the podium. For the first time in my life I am puffing my chest, getting misty at the national anthem and waving my flag. I'm Canadian and I'm proud. I bristle when reading the complaints of other countries, the British who say the games are a debolicle that won't take any effort to top and could our weather be any more miserable? Really, the British think OUR weather is miserable??? Lol... The American snowboarding team who felt we had sacrificed style for performance in our tight snowboarding pants. Hmm, looking good, or winning....??? Really??? Ryan Kessler, the American hockey player who plays for THE VANCOUVER CANUCKS stating that he "Hates Canadians, they always have something to prove...". Umm, exuse me, you play for our franchise, we pay you your millions of dollars to play our sport...do I take offense to this? Hell yes, these our our games. Hockey is our sport. There is nothing wrong with proclaiming ownership of something we do so well. We give the world their soccer, baseball, even basketball which was invented in Canada. Please, we say politely as we pass the apple pie, "Just give us our hockey and the right to be loud and proud for once in our lives." I'm sure we will go back to being the quiet, ambivalent, tolerant nation the world expects us to be once these Olympics are over but for now we wave our flags, wear our maple leafs and take pride in our love of hockey and beer. Even Oprah loves our mittens... Go Canada!!!

Honoured

2010-02-16T21:54:00.000-08:00

My husband's brother's wife Trisha (my sister inlaw), is thirty-nine weeks pregnant today. I am excited and anxious for their baby to be born. Trisha and Greg decided not to find out the sex of the baby so it will be a surprise for us all. Trisha has talked alot with me about my pregnancy experiences with Lorelei and Calvin and Georgia and I have been happy to share in her joy and answer any questions she has had based on my own experiences. Trisha has been very much a younger sister to me for years now, we have a good and open relationship where we can talk about pretty much anything. About a month ago, Trisha asked me if I would be her stand-in birth coach, to give Greg some respite as she labours, to run for ice chips or whatever she may need in those moments and to share in the joy of her birth. I'm beyond honoured. I was so touched that she thought of me and asked me to be there on such a special occassion that it brought tears to my eyes. I have never witnessed a birth before, my own births were caesareans, one under general anesthetic and one with a spinal. Even though I was very much awake for Calvin and Georgia's births, I couldn't see anything because of the drapes, not even the babies until they were cleaned up, checked, weighed and then handed back over to me. I am so excited to be part of my neice or nephew's birth but the longer Trisha stays pregnant, the more nervous I get.

I guess having high risk pregnancies I have certain expectations about what should be done based on my own experiences. Trisha's prenatal care has been very different from my own in that she has had only one ultrasound so far other than the 4D ultrasound they went for at a specialty clinic. She has also not had to have any non-stress tests or the frequent checkups I had. Her doctor is also pretty relaxed about the possibility that she may go beyond her due date and Trisha has told me that they will let her go ten days. I don't like this. To be honest, it scares the shit out of me and I have urged Trisha to be her own advocate in regards to her birth and to not let the doctors pressure her into going ten days past her due date if she is feeling uneasy about it. Really, her health is much better than mine in the fact that she doesn't have any clotting disorders, she is much younger than I was during my first pregnancy and for being a tad overweight when she got pregnant, she has only gained twelve pounds. I am in awe of how amazing she is doing for her first pregnancy. I must say I'm jealous over the fact that she's gained next to no weight at all by following her doctor's orders and she has the most perfect, beautiful pregnant belly ever. She truly suits being pregnant. But I don't want her to be pregnant ten days past her due date. I'm not sure if my fears are irrational given her good health, I just have a terrible feeling about them letting her go that long past.

Maybe my fear comes from having read too many blogs of mothers who have lost their perfectly healthy babies at term and the fear that something like that could happen to someone I love so much. I don't want Greg or Trisha to have to deal with the same pain Shane and I have gone through after losing our son. I want everything to be perfect for them and their new baby. I want them to know the joy of bringing their baby home and knowing that he/she is here to stay. I love this baby already and I want the very best for her. I don't know why I am so scared for them at a time I should be patiently waiting with NO WORRIES that anything could go wrong. I just want Trisha to go into labour and have an easy, uncomplicated birth that results in a live, healthy baby at the end of it all. I can't wait to be there, to share in their joy. I just wish I could shake this feeling and be reassured that everything will be just fine. Because it will. I know it. I just would feel better if the baby was out now.

How crazy is this???

Struggling

2010-02-12T14:33:00.000-08:00

I've been struggling in my personal life the last few weeks. Nothing drastic has been going on but for some reason I feel as if I have entered a whole new cycle of grief. I can't stop thinking of Calvin and what I'm missing. I'm not sure if it was the comments my grandmother made about my son not "needing" a marker on his grave but since that visit, my heart has been aching for him. I can't seem to get past my family's lack of feeling for what Shane and I have lived through, there has been not one iota of sympathy or care and it enrages me that such a beautiful, special little boy has not been given one thought since his passing. Some days I hate my family and wish I could just sever the ties with them. In truth, I suppose that once my mother passes away, the family will not have much to do with me but until then, the ties that bind us are tenuous. I wish I didn't care and in alot of ways I am beyond caring for myself, but the fact that they could turn their backs on my son and pretend he didn't exist tears me apart. He didn't deserve to be born with a broken heart, he certainly didn't deserve to go through all that happened to him only to die in the end but to have his life not validated by my own family is the worst injustice of all. I'm sad for him and angry for me for having to live with their indifference.

I am also currently on my way to being weaned of my painkillers and I am finding myself being very tired as of late. The tapering off started Monday and will likely take three months but hopefully by cutting down my dosage slowly I won't suffer the full out withdrawl I went through when I tried to go cold turkey over New Years. I am disappointed in myself that I will have to endure another three months of medication in order to be drug free and although I am making progress, I would rather be admitted to hospital, sedated and then go cold turkey for the week it takes to detox. I am impatient and want to be better now. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of feeling that gnawing in my stomach as my body tells me I need more medication. I'm tired of feeling paralyzed by this addiction and I just want to move on with my life and start living normally again. I know the road to recovery will be an arduous one and frankly I don't know if I have it in me right now to feel this way for another few months. I'm feeling down about myself for getting into the addiction in the first place, if only I had had the courage to face Calvin's death a year ago instead of trying to mute out the horrific feeling of pain. I'm afraid that maybe once the numbing effects of the meds wear off that again I'll be immersed in sorrow and will have to start the grieving process anew. I don't want that at all.

I also have been worried about the community of friendship we have here in Dead Baby Land. With all the new rainbow babies being born, I wonder if the support that I so need some days will stay the same. I worry about being left behind in my grief because I won't be having any more children and as some of the mamas welcome their new miracles, I wonder if their needs for this community will fade away. I know all too well the time and attention a new baby requires as well as that all consuming love that you feel for your new babies and I do know that many of the mamas will not have the time for their blogs anymore. The thing that really gets me is that I've grown to love some of you very much, and this is the main way I keep in touch with you. I guess what I'm hoping is that we don't leave each other behind, that the driving force that brought us together as friends in caring and understanding stays the same although all of our lives are changing day by day. Truthfully, I can't imagine my life without some of you in it now. I worry that as you move on and have your babies that no one will remember my son other than me. I worry that the gestures like the Valentine I got from Lea for Calvin will stop. I need my son to be remembered and I don't know what I'd do without some of you.

To carry on with this train of thought also, I have been drawn to the blogs of three new women lately. As much as I hate to welcome anyone into Dead Baby Land, I feel like part of my purpose through my blog is to offer the same sort of support and love that was extended to me when I was newly bereaved. I would like to offer some support to those women now and I hope you'll pop over to their blogs and extend a hand in friendship to these mothers who are in pain over the losses of their precious babes.

Mindy. I found Mindy's blog through Glow in the Woods and I am struck by how deeply she is suffering. Mindy lost her precious son Henry through an accident at birth, something she couldn't have known would happen or prevented. Her letters to Henry speak volumes of her love for him, her regret and her pain of having to carry on without him. Please pop by and say hello and offer her some love http://indiebambino.blogspot.com/

Megan. Megan is newly bereaved, she lost her sweet Grace less than a month ago and has reached out already for support. I am in awe over her will to survive this. It took me months before I could reach out following Calvin's death. Megan has a complicated situation because she is a high risk obstetrical nurse and will be returning to work shortly even though she's not completely ready. I can't imagine having to put myself in a situation to be confronted with the grief of others while still being in the beginning stages of my own loss. Megan's blog can be found at http://gracefulwillows.blogspot.com/

Eve. Eve presents a unique situation as she is pregnant with twins right now and is trying to carry her daughter Abby as close to term as possible while knowing that her son Will has passed away in utero. Eve's journey is heartbreaking as she will be presented with many challenges as to how to honour and mourn Will while awaiting Abby's birth. Eve will likely not get the chance to hold and spend time with Will after his birth due to the amount of time he has spent deceased in utero while she waits for Abby to be physically big and strong enough to be born. Luckily Eve found a NILMDTS photographer who agreed to do a maternity shoot for her although it is not the norm for them. Eve's blog can be found at http://infertilityrocks.wordpress.com/

As much as I am struggling in my own skin right now, I know these women are also having a tough time. My hope is to build a bridge of hope for them so that they know they don't walk through the darkness alone. I urge those that read my blog to visit these women and offer some heartfelt love and support. Although most of us have made it through the darkest days by now, for some it is just beginning. Hugging you all...

Hit the Road Black Cloud....

2010-02-02T14:42:00.000-08:00

For most of my life I have felt as if a big black cloud was hanging over my head. I'm generally an unlucky person, if something bad is going to happen, it usually happens to me. I've learned to laugh at this over the last couple of years, well until we lost Calvin anyway. I think because I am determined to find happiness and peace and to have a much better year than I did last year, the black cloud is trying extra hard to bring me down. The disastrous visit with my grandmother, catching a cold almost as soon as I got home and then last night...

Not feeling the greatest last night, I was pretty sure I would just spend my evening vegging out on the couch watching some tv. I had literally no energy, like how you get when you have a bad flu or cold. My cold isn't bad to that point yet but I could not bring myself to get anything accomplished in my day, in fact I hadn't even showered (ewww, yes, I know.) So in order to ease my guilt over being sick and not getting much done, I figured the least I could do was to put the clothes that were in the washing machine from the morning into the dryer. Having done that I was looking forward to quiet time with the girls, the half an hour before their bedtime where we begin to wind down and get ready for sleep. Georgia's bottle was heating up, Lorelei had changed into her pyjamas and we had turned the tv back on Treehouse for half an hour of cartoons before story time. As I sat there on the couch, I started to think I could smell something cooking. Having just heated up a pizza for supper and being sure I had turned the oven off, I convinced myself it was my imagination. Then the smell started to get stronger. Since Shane hadn't mentioned smelling anything, I was sure it was just me and I tried to ignore it. A minute later when my thoughts started to nag at me that something was wrong, I got up and went to the laundry room just to check. I was not at all prepared for what I opened the door to, a roomful of smoke. Yelling fire to Shane, I grabbed Lorelei's coat and boots from the front door and Georgia's blanket from her bedroom. Shane ran into the laundry room to figure out where the smoke was coming from and I grabbed the kids and ran outside. Lorelei was terrified. She was crying and worried that our house would burn down and I tried to soothe her as I waited to hear from Shane what was going on. It struck me as I stood outside in the cold night air with my children that they were the only things I had grabbed. I had always imagined that if my place burned, that there would be certain possessions that I would be sure to bring with me as we fled. I didn't even give my things a second thought. I had my children in my arms and in that moment it was all that mattered.

Back in the laundry room, Shane had turned the dryer off, unplugged it from the wall and pulled it out and away from the wall so that nothing else would catch fire. He pulled out the load of clothes that was inside and was inspecting the lint trap and vents for further evidence of flame. As the smoke began to clear, we determined it was alright to come back in, that our lives were not in danger and that the fire was out. Surprisingly, the whole thing while shocking in the moment, didn't bring me down. In fact, I laughed as I thought about what was in that load in the dryer, all my pants. What a shame it would be if I had to buy all new pants I had thought to myself. Immediately I got on the phone with Shane's mom, they had offered us their washer and dryer awhile ago because they were getting new ones. Telling us that we would have their washer and dryer by the weekend, I chose to look at the situation as a much needed break from laundry. I am still determined as ever to make this year so much better than our last year. Mentally I mocked the black cloud and shoo'd it away. I had what learned what was most important to me in those moments, that my children and husband are what matter most in my life and that feeling was so freeing. I hadn't given a second thought to my jewelery or the money I had sitting in my purse and I knew in those moments after that no matter what happens in my life, that as long as my family is safe and together that the other stuff doesn't really matter.

Disappointment

2010-01-28T20:21:00.000-08:00

Well I'm back. My trip home sucked. I spent most of the two days I was there crying. I don't know why I bothered. I suppose I was hoping for some kind of acknowledgement of my loss and the deep hurt that not having family support caused me. Instead of the apology I was hoping for, my wounds were torn open again when my grandmother told me I had wasted my money buying my son a headstone. I was aghast when she said it, saying that he didn't need it and that it was a waste for us to have gone to the expense of a funeral for him. She also told me that my "religion" was pitiful, that there is no God or Heaven and that religion is just a crutch for people who can't handle the truth. She critisized almost every area in my life from the way I raise my children, to being financially irresponsible, to my weight and Georgia's weight and the fact that it's time I cut my hair and act like a grownup. I sat there sobbing as she told me I was making my baby fat and that I needed to stop buying my kids toys for Christmas because they were going to be spoiled. My poor mother sat there in her wheelchair, unable to say much because her speech is so bad other than to say "Don't cry...please, don't let her make you cry." I couldn't help it. I cried out of hurt and anger and frustration that this woman who has never been to my house or seen how I live could critisize everything about me. Attacking Georgia's weight really pushed me over the edge. Yes, my baby is chubby but she is a BABY. Lorelei was chubby too but thinned out alot when she started really running around. To have my grandma tell me to stop feeding my baby so much made me so angry I was shaking. And all I could do was cry. I hated every second of being there. While she railed and yelled at me for not visiting my mother as often as I should, I felt myself shutting down. When she finally left to give my mom and I some privacy, I told my mother that the reason I don't visit as often as I should is because of grandma, that she's so fucking mean to me that when I think about going down for a visit that knowing that I'm going to have to listen to grandma's tirades about everything that's wrong with me, I simply avoid it by not going. In the beginning, when it was just Shane and I and we would go for a visit, he once packed our bags and we left as my grandma screamed and yelled and told me what a failure I was. He told her to never talk about me that way around him again and when he is with me, she doesn't. This time I went alone so I was fair game I suppose.

Because I have struggled with weight issues my whole life, my weight has always been a sensitive subject with me. As an overweight child and teenager, my self esteem suffered horribly. I was insecure in my body and tried many times to lose weight to please people around me. My grandmother has always had a huge hangup about weight, every visit from the time I was ten or so involved comments that hurt. She would say horrible things to me about my body and the way I was "squeezed" into my clothes and "aren't you worried you'll never get a husband". When I did manage to lose most of my weight she was overjoyed telling me for the first time ever that I was beautiful. Every visit after that involved her scrutinizing my thighs and arms looking for extra pounds. On one visit she told Shane to stop carrying in all the luggage and let me do it, "Aren't you afraid she'll get fat again?"....Well I did get fat again. I got pregnant and packed on the pounds with Lorelei. I was still fifteen pounds up when I got pregnant with Georgia and Calvin. I was terrified that she would berate me during my pregnancy about weight issues but she managed to leave it alone until after the babies were born. For me, because I had felt so much hurt over the years because of comments she and others had made about my weight, having her suggest to me that I was making Georgia fat hurt me most of all. As a mother who loves her children more than anything in the world, fat is the last thing I would want for my daughter. I would never wish for my children to suffer the pain and low self esteem I had growing up and although I have yet to conquer my own weight issues, I make sure my girls eat nutrious, healthy food and not much junk. As I sat there bawling at her vicious remarks about my beautiful baby girl, I couldn't help but wish hateful things on her. I hate feeling like that, so full of hurt and rage that I actually wished she would just die and leave me alone.

The night before I left to come home, I tried once more to talk about Calvin to her. I brought out his book and showed her what we went through. She saw the pictures of him dying in our arms and of him lying in his tiny casket. After an hour of reading the book, she closed it and looked at me and said, "Do you read this all the time?" and when I answered no she said, "That's good, because it's pretty depressing." Really? No shit it's depressing. It's the reality of what we went through with Calvin in vivid colour, all there in front of her so that there was no denying it. She didn't have anything more to say about the situation than that. No "I'm sorry I didn't come to his funeral", no "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you", no "I'm sorry that saying his marker was a waste of money". Nothing. I was so eager to get out of there I was in bed by nine that night and up by five am so that I could hit the road. I couldn't get home fast enough. All the way back I had to choke back tears remembering the horrible things she had said to me in front of my mother who was helpless to do anything to intervene. I thought about Georgia and her smile and Lorelei and her bright blue eyes and Shane and how his arms feel around me as I drove, willing the negative stay behind as I headed towards the loves of my life. I wish I could say that I truly left all the hurt behind but the disappointment still sits behind my eyes and my chest feels heavy. Although I knew it would probably not turn out the way I had hoped for, that little bit of hope inside had made me go and take a chance that my feelings would matter this time. They didn't and so the topic of my son is something I will no longer discuss with my family except my mother. I just hope that I find the strength to go back again for her sake. Thanks for all your wishes of support for me, how wonderful I do have the support of my bloggy friends here, it means so very much to me.

Family Relations

2010-01-23T15:18:00.000-08:00

This coming Monday I am confronting a deep pain that I have carried with me for over a year now. I am going to visit my family five hours away and I have every intention of letting them know that by not attending the funeral of my son, they have hurt me very deeply. I'm bringing Calvin's book so that if they choose, they can meet my son and see what he endured in his short life. I have tried to speak of Calvin over the phone a few times with my grandmother until she snapped at me one time and told me that all I ever talk about anymore is my dead son. It cut me to the core. I was absolutely gutted by her comment and since then have merely muttered, "I'm fine", when asked how I am doing. It's awful to live with the knowledge that there is such little care about my feelings, so little love, that my family could pass on coming to the funeral of a child who was very much wanted and loved by my husband and myself. To be honest, the day of Calvin's funeral, even though I was in a complete daze, I was very much aware of their absence. I never even received a sympathy card. It has made me bitter towards my remaining family, the few relatives I have left on my mother's side. Some days I wonder if I should just cut all ties completely because it is clear that there is very little interest in my life. The reason I keep hanging on is my mother. My mother, my sole caretaker when I was a child is dying. She has been in the terminal stages of MS for years now, any little infection could kill her. My mother is someone I love with my whole heart despite the rocky time we went through during my teenage years. While I am extremely grateful for my grandmother's complete devotion to my mother, dealing with her has been a nightmare. To say I am intimidated by this ninety-one year old woman is an understatement. I'm literally terrified of having to have this conversation with her.

It's amazing to me how when I talk of my grandmother and my relationship with her people tend to laugh or dismiss her mean streak as age. I can probably only count on one hand the number of visits I've had with her since I was a teenager where she hasn't made me cry. On one hand, I love her so very much and I admire her strength for enduring so much pain and hardship in her life. My grandmother came from a very poor family in Ireland and in the early 1920's travelled by steamer (in steerage) to Canada where her parents hoped to live a new life. Her mother died on the voyage over of tuberculosis and when they landed in Canada, her father gave all five kids up for adoption. My grandmother, being the oldest was the only one who never got a family. She lived in foster care most of her life in very poor conditions and was treated basically as a slave. She definitely had her share of hard work growing up. Part of her was damaged during those years though, the emotional part of her took such a beating that she became bitter and unable to empathize. She has very little tolerance for things that she doesn't agree with and she has no qualms about speaking her mind if things don't meet her approval. At best, her tirades are embarassing, especially when she goes off in public. At worst, she has hurt me so deeply by attacking everything in my life I am sensitive about until I have been crying in hurt and frustration and there's nothing I can do but sit there and take it. Truthfully, there are many times that if she hadn't been old and if I didn't feel indebted to her for taking care of my mother that I would have liked to have punched her in the mouth for some of the cruel things she has said to me. At the same time, she can be so kind and generous it's like Jekyll and Hyde. She makes me feel like an infant for the most part even though I now tower over her in height. To say I am looking forward to this confrontation is a joke but it's something I have to do for me and for my son.

I think one of the reasons that Shane and I have had for the most part such a good marriage is that we both come from families where we have felt disappointment. I think the disappointment we have experienced growing up made us realize what we wanted for ourselves and our children. I wanted my children to feel loved most of all, to know they are valued. I wanted my children to feel secure and safe within the confines of our family and know that they could count on their dad and I to be there for them no matter what we may face down the road. I have been told many times by not only my therapist but by others that I cannot continue to let the lack of interest in my life that my family has, keep hurting me. I have been told to "create" the family I had always wished for growing up. For some reason, I can't let go. I can't let go of the hurt I have felt by my family's apathy in regards to Calvin's life and death. I can't let go of the feeling of being silenced by my grandmother when she told me that all I do is talk about my dead son. I cannot let go of the disappointmet that my family who looks so wonderful on the outside, has very little substance on the inside. This trip may break my ties altogether or it may help them realize that I am here and I am hurting. I'm not holding out any hope for one of those "lightbulb" moments where they all get it and apologize even though it would be nice. I guess I'm mainly doing it so that I can purge some of the crap I've been carrying around for a year now and let it go. I need to do it to honour Calvin and myself, and even though I am scared to death of how it will go, I know that afterwards I will have done what I have set out to do and for that I can be proud. Wish me luck...

Welcome Isobella Mai!!!

2010-01-17T15:15:00.000-08:00

I just wanted to post my joy at hearing that Jay at Opus Angara http://opusangara.blogspot.com/ has safely brought her rainbow baby Isobella Mai into the world. I must admit I suffer anxiety everytime one of you babylost mamas gets pregnant and then gets close to the due date. I care so much and so deeply for some of you that I could not bear to see any of you suffer any more than you already have. I have followed Jay's pregnancy with Isobella for some time now and have been in awe of Jay and her peaceful outlook on her pregnancy. Not only is she breathtakingly beautiful while pregnant, she makes the most gorgeous babies too. Please pop over to Jay's blog and welcome Isobella if you haven't done so already.

It seems as if there are an overwhelming number of rainbow babies on their way right now, some days it's difficult to remember who is pregnant and when they are due. I do have a little envy I must admit. While I have my two lovely daughters here with me, knowing that I probably will not ever be pregnant again is difficult to accept sometimes. I love the newborn/first year stage so much that I'm sure if I had been well enough, I would have had a baby every year until my uterus fell out. Seriously. There is something so incredibly intoxicating about the smell and feel of a newborn baby and in watching the development of milestones within those first twelve months. I love the first smiles. I love the excited rush of realizing the baby has just slept through the night for the first time. I'm sure Georgia and Lorelei will still keep me busy with their firsts but they are no longer as dependent on me as they were in that first year of life. Georgia still runs over to hug me every few minutes as she's playing or exploring, almost as if to reassure herself that I am still here as she moves further and further away from me into her own little world. Lorelei still demands snuggles and mommy time in the evenings or early mornings (thank God), but it's those tiny feet and hands and that soft downy hair I will miss as my girls grow older.

The conceptions and births of these rainbow babies has me thinking so much about Calvin lately. I miss him and no matter how hard I try to imagine him as Georgia's age right now, I can't. All I can see in my mind's eye is how he looked as a newborn, how precious and soft and wonderful he was. Oddly enough I had my second dream about Calvin last night and although the circumstances of my dream were chaotic and weird, the feeling of holding him again was wonderful. I woke up feeling peaceful and happy, like I had once again received a message from my son telling me he loved me and that things were alright for him. Indeed I am trying to focus on my belief that a hundred years on earth is only a few seconds in Heaven so that by the time we are reunited, Calvin won't feel he has been away from me for very long. I like that thought alot. Even though in my previous dream, Calvin came to me as a grown man of thirty with the promise of seeing him grow up in the rewind of my life, last night's dream had him as my infant son again. Only he could speak (aren't dreams weird?) and he told me he loved me repeatedly. Even though I long for more babies, I know that another son would not keep me from missing Calvin, in fact I know I will think of him and love him until the day I die. This realization has made me understand on a deeper level how the births of these rainbow babies must affect the mamas. While it must be a huge relief to hold a living child in their arms again, one baby can never take the place of another and that pain of separation and longing for the one you've lost will never completely go away. In a way, I think these babies bring back hope. Hope for the family, hope for new beginnings, hope for a happier and more fulfilled tomorrow. I wish there was a way to bring that hope to all of us who have lost a child especially for those of us facing fertility issues. The only way I can keep the hope alive inside myself is to focus on my girls and to share in the joys of the mamas out there experiencing motherhood of a different sort now, the mothering of children who are alive and well. It is something I wish for everyone.

Catching Up

2010-01-12T00:19:00.001-08:00

I can't believe it's been a week since my last post and that I haven't found the time in my day to sit down and write what's been going on with me. So many little things. First, I have been nominated by three fellow bloggers for the Beautiful Blogger Award which I will get to as soon as possible. I promise I will try to do it tomorrow, I just had so much on my mind tonight that I wanted to spill about that it will have to wait another day, another post.

I am a little upset right now because my camera battery is not holding a charge and there are things I have wanted to share with you all on my blog. I am going to try to get a few pictures taken in the coming days so that I can share the beautiful gifts I have received from Karen and Barb. During the twenty five days of Christmas giveaway, I won the stolen moments wrap from Karen at Busy Hands. It's simply gorgeous and I've been wanting to take a picture of it to share and I will as soon as it's possible. As well, I won a handstamped page from Barb at Burble, a beautiful piece of silver jewelery that she lovingly stamped with Calvin's name, birth and death dates. It took one month from the day she mailed it for it to arrive here in Canada. I knew it was coming but never having received anything from the UK before, didn't know how long it would take in the mail. I must say I was getting anxious about it's arrival because I knew Barb had mailed it out weeks ago and it only arrived the other day. Nevertheless, it's gorgeous and I want to share it too. Thank you so much Barb and Karen for your beautiful gifts. I promise I will try to post pictures as soon as possible given my camera situation.

Today I ran into an old friend from years ago at City Hall while I was out paying my utility bill. Cory and I were friends as teenagers and for awhile, he lived on my couch when things weren't going so well for him at home. It's been probably at least eight or nine years since the last time I saw him and we made small talk while we were standing in line. The usual "Are you married and do you have any kids?" talk came up and I laughed as I told him I was on my second marriage and asked him the same questions. The last time I saw him, he had a girlfriend and I'm sure she was pregnant so it was to my surprise when he answered No, not married, no kids. I waited for him to pay his bill and we carried on our conversation on the steps outside. I told him about Lorelei and Georgia and then I took a deep breath and told him about Calvin and what had happened to him. Immediately Cory got a soft look in his eyes and said how sorry he was and then taking my hand, he told me he lost his firstborn and only child, a daughter. I could see the pain in his eyes as he related how his girlfriend went into labour and how as they were in the delivery room with her parents and his parents waiting outside, they lost the baby's heartbeat. He looked at me and said," One minute I was going to be a dad and the next minute my baby was dead and there was nothing they could do about it. Her cord was wrapped around her neck twice." My heart broke for him as he told me about the death of his daughter and how it ruined his relationship with his girlfriend. He told me that it hurt him so much that he didn't know if he ever wanted to have children again and that he had gone from relationship to relationship, not really feeling much of anything because he had all this hurt inside he was trying to keep down. He told me that he had hardened himself, that nothing in his life had hurt so much and that there were a million tears inside trying to get out. I could see a sense of relief in his eyes, knowing that there was someone out there who "got it". I couldn't believe one of my childhood friends had gone through losing a child too and it was amazing to me how comfortable it was to talk with him about it. He knew what I had dealt with because he had been there too. He knew the toll the death of your child takes on your relationship because he had been there too. I could tell he hadn't talked very much about his daughter with people but that he felt okay talking to me because of that terrible understanding. I walked away feeling a sadness for him but also a sense of kinship that I can't explain. I know that today's chance meeting will not be the only time we talk about our babies and that now that he knows someone else who has lived to bury their child that I will be there if he ever wants to talk.

Talking to Cory today gave me a new perspective on the male side of grief. I only know the things my husband has done since Calvin has died, the supressing the tears, being angry, drinking and acting out. Hearing Cory talk about how he hardened himself made me realize that for our men, it's possibly one of the only ways they can cope. I know that after Calvin's funeral, Shane stopped crying and that he became uncomfortable with my tears for awhile. I know he became angry at the world, my usually laid back and easy going husband had become filled with a rage I didn't know how to fix. I realize now that the anger was part survival. I know that as a man, Shane wasn't comfortable with the way he was feeling, the overwhelming sadness was something quite alien to him and frankly, although he knew it was acceptable for him to cry over our son, he didn't like to. Crying made him feel vulnerable and soft and in alot of ways, it went against everything he felt a man should be. Shane felt he had to be strong for me and the girls. He stuffed his tears away until the pain made him angry. He was angry at his inability to fix what had happened to our son and to us. Rather than talk about his feelings, he plunged into doing things that distracted him from the emptiness. He became obsessive about World of Warcraft, spending hours upon hours online. When that started to bore him he turned to his X-Box, shopping, golf, drinking, anything that would keep his mind off what had happened to us and in his inability to reconcile his grief, our marriage started to crumble. We are okay now, for this moment, but in talking to other couples who have lost their children also, it's amazing how many of them don't make it in the end. The grief divides them. The way men and women grieve is so different, husband and wives become strangers to each other. I know for a long time after Shane and I started having trouble that I was afraid to talk about Calvin because he said it brought him down all the time. We've talked since and sorted it out but for awhile, I was afraid to show my feelings in front of my own husband, the very person who had shared the pain of losing our only son, the one person who surely knew how I was feeling. In talking to Cory today, I got another glimpse at the male side of grief and how devastating it is for them as husbands and fathers to deal with a pain that feels insurmountable without being accustomed to the depth of emotion the deaths of our children invoked. I wanted to reach out and hug him and hold him but part of me knew that the "male" core of his being would not feel comfortable feeling vulnerable in a public place. I wanted to thank him for opening my eyes to the pain of my husband and the fact that Shane isn't alone in stuffing his feelings away. Instead, I squeezed Cory's hand and told him to add me on Facebook, that we would get together sometime to talk and I said good-bye. I have to wonder if we were meant to run into each other, to share with each other our deepest pain. I know I walked away feeling as if I had a better understanding of my husband and for that I am extremely grateful and feel more at peace with the way he has dealt with things over the last year. It's amazing to me that in ten minutes, my whole perspective changed towards my marriage and our struggles because of talking to another man face to face about what happened to him after he lost his child. It's amazing to me that babies dying seems more common than I ever thought possible, and it makes me sad. It makes me sad for the daddies who can't seem to grieve and be okay with their own emotions because it almost seems like we women have an easier time with it. We can cry, we talk about our pain, we are expected to be emotional whereas our men are not. Thank you Cory, for opening my eyes wider to the pain of the fathers, I pray you find peace.

Kickin' It

2010-01-04T12:34:00.000-08:00

I decided on New Years Eve that I was going to stop taking the opiates I've been on for over a year now. Cold turkey. I honestly didn't think it was going to be a huge issue, I was sure it would be a little uncomfortable but I was pretty sure I was prepared. I want to get healthy again. I want to not be fuzzed out all the time. I want my sleeping habits to get back to normal. With all these positives in mind, I took my last pill of the year at eleven that morning. By three o'clock the next morning I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable but I was doing it. I made it past the stomach cramps and the irritable feelings but by forty hours in, my muscles were spasming out of control. It was like restless legs syndrome all over my body, simply the worst feeling in the world. I tried to sleep. I had taken 1mg of Ativan to ease me through the worst part of the withdrawl and help me sleep. It didn't help. I took a second mg of Ativan and then a third. Finally I broke down and took a pill. I felt defeated. I can't believe I didn't make it. It was the longest forty hours of my life and I couldn't make it. The feeling of wanting to rip off my own skin was too much for me to handle. I hate to admit it but I think I'm going to need to seek professional help to get off these meds. When I think back to this time last year, after Calvin had just died and I was sicker than sick with e. coli, addiction to the meds never occurred to me. The soft fuzzy blanket of numb that wrapped itself around the sharp edges of my pain appealed to me. Instead of the searing emotions, that feeling of having my heart repeatedly ripped out, my grief had become numb. Bearable. At the time, I needed it. I wanted to die in the months that followed Calvin's death and I couldn't stand the pain. The infection was a vehicle for the meds, a means to an end. In the months that followed, more pelvic problems that required strong pain relief. What should have been my first clue was when I started buying pills off the street. In January of last year at one point I had three different strengths of Dilaudid, Morphine, Percocet, T-3's as well as Valium and Ativan. I was mixing them to adjust the degree of numbing I was used to. It's amazing to me that I didn't overdose and die. At one point, I ended up going back to my doctor and telling him I needed a prescription for long acting pain relief. He put me on a twice daily dose of hydromorphone contin. I've been down to just those two pills a day for a little under six months now. I didn't think it was going to physically kick my ass this hard to try and get off them. I'm disappointed in myself. I'm disappointed that I hid my pain in pills for so long that I'm physically addicted. I'm scared about how I'm going to make it past the withdrawl to get off them. I don't want this life anymore. While at one point in my grief I wanted to die, I now want to live for my daughters, for my husband and for myself. I hate what I've done to myself.

Not only am I ashamed at the "distaste" I've had for people with addiction problems, I'm ashamed to realize I am one of them. I've always prided myself at never getting into street drugs more than smoking a little pot when I was a teenager. I've never done cocaine, or acid, or ecstasy or any of the other designer drugs out there. I've always been very cautious about drugs, always a little on the square side. I haven't even drank alcohol more than four or five times in the last five years. Yet here I am, comfortable enough to take pills because they come with a prescription and then to buy them from people I know because I've taken them before and know what to expect. It's terrible to realize you've become one of "them". Not only that but it's shameful to me that I've been not giving myself the chance to fully feel the extent of my grief. In some ways, I'm not sure how things would have gone for me had I chosen to plunge headfirst into the darkness of my grief after losing Calvin. I do know there were several days that I contemplated taking my own life after he died. I felt a failure as his mother, for not being able to protect him, for leaving him to lie in the ground alone. I felt it was my responsibility to be with him because it went against everything in me to "abandon" him to death. I hid away in the drugs until I could talk about him without screaming, until I could get past the feeling of wanting to rip my hair out and fall to the ground pounding my fists and wailing his name. In truth, I wonder if I will plunge into that abyss once I'm off the pills. I hope sufficient time has passed that it's bearable. I hope that coming out of the fuzz will renew my energy, reinforce the committment I've made to spend more "kid" time with my girls, playing with them and enjoying their childhoods. I know I have to do this, that I WANT to do this. I'm just not sure HOW to do it now that I've failed miserably at going the cold turkey route.

I guess part of me is also afraid of being judged. I worry how people will perceive me as a person, as a mother, as a sister, as a friend now that the extent of my addiction is out in the open. I worry that people will realize that I'm not strong at all, that I couldn't face the death of my child without burying my feelings in pills. I worry that there will be condemnation for what I have allowed to happen to me or that people will nod and say "So that's whats been going on with her." Part of me wants to shout and rationalize and list all the terrible things that have happened since Calvin died and say, "See, see what I've been through this year?", as if those things would give me a reason. And while yes, there are reasons, I do know that other people survive tragedies also and they do it without burying themselves in a prescription bottle. I'm determined to hang onto my identity through all of this. I don't want to be thought of as an "addict" or have the consequences of my actions define who I am. I am still me. I am a mother, a wife, a friend, a sister, and a daughter. I am a woman who has been hurt terribly in my life and is still standing. I am a survivor who has made the decision to live rather than die. I am a woman with hope, for myself, for my children, for my family. It's not going to be easy and I'm sure I will need support in the days I am feeling discouraged but I do know this is something I WILL overcome. Please say a prayer for me.

Closing the Door on 2009

2009-12-30T22:52:00.000-08:00

I'll be the first to admit, it's been a terrible year for me. There are not very many parts of 2009 that I can remember with a smile. Of course there were some good things that happened in my life this past year, I made some wonderful friends, I had a new baby to love and hold and watch grow into a toddler, I went on a wonderful getaway to Vancouver with my husband and children and I survived a year without my son. That said, there were more bad than good things in my life in 2009 and I am so ready to say good-bye to the misery of this year and start fresh.

Some of the things I am looking forward to in the coming year are:

Taking better care of myself, physically, emotionally and spiritually.

Spending more quality time with my daughters. Playing more, worrying less and being more focused.

Decluttering. Enough said.

Reading more, learning more, spending more me time.

Getting underway with more fundraising for Children's Hospital.

Spending more time outdoors.

Maybe going back to school.

This year is going to be about me. I've decided that it's time I came first in my own life and that I need to be happy as a person to be a good wife and mother. I need time for myself doing the things that I enjoy, even if it is just a few hours a week. I'm going to get back into doing some things that I love, I'll keep you posted on how that goes. I'm also going to try to worry less, relax more and get back on a regular sleep cycle. I can't tell you how lack of sleep affects me in every area of my life, insomnia is the shits. I've realized that in the last year I have done very little to take care of myself. This is going to be something new for me and something I hope will have benefits to not only my health but my mood as well. I'm actually excited for the New Year. I have hope that it will be a good year, anything has got to be better than 2009 for sure and I know many of you are feeling the same way. Hope you all have hope for a better year too. Hugs to all...and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

The Spirit of Christmas

2009-12-26T15:09:00.000-08:00

The Christmas spirit came to our house yesterday, not in the form of packages under the tree or stockings brimming with goodies. It came in the form of togetherness and in the love we have for each other. Our Christmas Day was wonderful even though we were missing Calvin and my thoughts turned to what could have been during moments throughout the day. We didn't have an unlimited supply of cash to distract us with this year and there were no trips to Toys R Us made in hopes of spoiling the girls. We were on a budget this year for sure, Shane and I exchanged small gifts between us instead of our usual "let's see who can outspoil the other" Christmases of the past. Instead we focused on our girls and making the holiday special for them. Lorelei wrote a letter to Santa outlining her most wished for items, A Tonka Bounceback Racer, Aquadoodle and new slippers. She received a letter back from Santa on Christmas Eve, thanks to the good folks at Canada Post, and she went to sleep confident in the jolly elf's ability to make her Christmas dreams come true. Indeed they did. Christmas morning came early for me as poor Georgia has been awake til five am most mornings this past week with teething pain. Lorelei tiptoed into our room just past eight to let us know that Santa had come so I climbed out of bed and set about getting breakfast going, making coffee and keeping her distracted enough not to go crazy while we waited for Georgia to wake up. Finally, just after nine I went and woke Georgia so that the girls could start opening presents. Shane and I had bought Lorelei a ton of art supplies, magic markers, paint, paper, stickers and glitter glue because she loves to create pictures and make cards for people. She was so excited opening her gifts and seeing all the new things she had to create with. Not only did she receive art supplies but lots of brand new Playdoh, story books and DVD's, new pyjamas and best of all, her Bounceback Racer with one for Daddy as well so they can play together. The fatman also brought her brand new Clifford the Big Red Dog slippers to keep her feet warm and a ton of goodies including Kinder eggs for her stocking.

It was with joy in my heart that I watched our girls open their presents yesterday morning. Seeing Georgia playing with her new toys, watching Lorelei jumping up and down yelling that "This is the best Christmas ever" and knowing we had a beautiful turkey dinner to go to later on in the day brought a smile to my face and a feeling of satisfaction. Sure enough I was exhausted by about one in the afternoon and Georgia and I retired for a nap while Shane and Lorelei played with their new toys. My nap put us a bit late heading up to Shane's parents for dinner and it was to my surprise that when we got up there, there were a ton of presents to open up there as well. Shane's mom bought me my favorite chocolates and gave us a gift card for groceries which is much appreciated right now, and they spoiled the girls like crazy. Lorelei got her Aquadoodle from grandma and papa and her aunts and uncles overdid themselves buying her and Georgia gifts. Just watching the happiness on my child's face, seeing Georgia beam as she was passed from person to person, just sitting in the togetherness of the family made my Christmas so incredibly special. No, I didn't get alot this year but surpringly enough it didn't matter to me one bit. I HAVE all I need in the way of material things. What I GOT was a feeling of peace and satisfaction that this is how it is supposed to be. We were together, we had a fabulous dinner, my children were overjoyed. I thought of Calvin as Shane's dad said grace, asking God to watch over him and I just knew that Calvin was safe in the arms of God and enjoying Christmas in heaven. It's a feeling I've wanted and searched for since my son died. Knowing that Christmas had come without Calvin being here and enjoying it anyway was such a gift. It's what I wanted and I am so grateful I got it. I wondered throughout the day how the rest of you were coping. I remember all too well the emptiness of our first Christmas without our son last year and knew that some of you would be feeling that emptiness too. My wish for all of you was that you find peace in your hearts at some point over the holidays. That the terrible yearning and aching for your children didn't tear things apart for you. That the coming year brings a sense of renewed hope for your families. I am full of hope for the new year, and I pray that some of that hope finds it's way to you. Wishing you love and laughter.

I Wish You Peace

2009-12-24T13:15:00.000-08:00

Christmas Eve is upon us and if there is one thing I could wish for all of you is a feeling of peace in your hearts. I know how difficult the holidays can be, especially if this is your first Christmas in mourning. Last year was terrible for us, Calvin had been gone only six weeks before Christmas came. It was an empty, hollow feeling as we trimmed the tree and went through the motions for our other children, truly our hearts weren't in it. This year I looked forward to Christmas with hope. Hope for peace, hope for the return of joy in our hearts, hope for acceptance. So far I am doing okay. Although the holidays have not quite turned out as I had hoped, we are healthy, we are together and I am not sobbing twenty hours out of the day for missing my son. I do miss Calvin. If I close my eyes and imagine, I can picture him on Christmas morning in a fuzzy blue sleeper, curly hair messy as he sits next to his sister ripping into presents. It makes me smile to think of him like that but it also tears at my heart knowing that it isn't our reality as much as I would like it to be.

For some, their losses will be muted with new babies this Christmas. New reasons to smile and celebrate and while a new baby will never replace the ones we long for, I've heard that the pain is softened with the return of joy and the promise of tomorrow.

For all of us, whether we are mourning, celebrating a new life or spending the holidays with familiar faces, it would be my wish that each and every one is blessed with a sense of peace, love and hope as we prepare to say good-bye to the old year and usher in the new. Sending you all my love....

Glad Tidings....

2009-12-20T13:15:00.000-08:00

It is with joy that I send my heartfelt congratulations to Lea at Nicholas' Touch for the safe, early arrival of Madison Nichole born December 17, 2009. Upon receiving Lea's announcement of Madison's birth, I found myself weeping tears of joy, relief and happiness for her and her family. It's so hard sometimes to hang onto your faith in God when you lose a child, so hard to believe things will ever go right for you again. Although I never doubted that Madison would arrive safely, I wanted with all my heart for things to be okay for Lea. I admit I was scared for her. After watching Mirne and Craig go through the pain of losing Jett I realized that sometimes even the "rainbow" can be lost. Madison's safe birth I'm sure brings a collective sigh of relief for all of us who were following Lea's pregnancy, waiting expectantly for Madison and hoping with all of our hearts that she would arrive safe and sound in good health. She is simply precious and I am so happy for my friend and her beautiful miracle.

It is also with a feeling of joy in my heart that I share this next picture with you. It's Calvin's name, lovingly written in the stars by Amanda

http://namesinthestars.blogspot.com/

I thought it was simply beautiful and gave me the most wonderful feeling of peace when I saw it. Amanda's daughter Ireland was the first name I saw written and was overwhelmed with the beauty of it. I can't get over how wonderful the mama's are in what they do to provide comfort and love to those of us missing our beautiful babies. Thank you so much Amanda.

On another note, I received my "Stolen Moments" wrap from Karen at Busy Hands and it is everybit as beautiful as I thought it would be. When my camera battery is charged, I will take a picture and post it here for all to see. Thank you so much Karen, your talent is amazing. Thank you also to Jenny and Karen for their offers to assist me in locating my friend J's will, I will be contacting you later today or early tomorrow. As much as we have all suffered and been hurt by the loss of our children, the love and support we get from each other works miracles in our healing. God Bless each and every one of you this holiday season. May you all find your reasons to feel joy, peace and acceptance in your hearts this Christmas. I love you all....

Huge Mistake...

2009-12-18T14:56:00.000-08:00

Months ago I got a call that could have changed my life. At the time I was reeling from Calvin's death and unable to focus on anything else. So, when the man on the other end of the phone asked if I had recognized a name, I said no. I hung up the phone and didn't think about it again. Recently, I became aware that the phone call had a huge relevance in my life and that I do indeed remember the man I was being asked about. He was an old man I had befriended years ago while working at the bingo hall. He was alone, visiting my home town and he was dying. We spent alot of time talking, sharing life stories and talking about God. His name was the same as my father's and grandfather's and we laughed that it was fate that we meet. To be honest, I thought he was destitute and I often snuck him coffee when I'd take my breaks at work. I remember him being an extremely sorrowful man, who had many regrets in life. He looked to me for friendship and we fell into an easy friendship, able to talk about anything. I remember talking to him about my life, my father and our relationship. We talked about marriage, children and our beliefs. We shared sorrows. He was just a dear old soul, on a mission to tie up the loose ends in his life. The day he left to go home, he came to see me at work. He told me he would never forget my kindness and said he wanted to do something nice for me. He asked me to write my full legal name on a piece of paper which I did. He then folded it very carefully and tucked it into his wallet, saying that I would hear from him again. As he left, there were tears in his eyes as he held my hand and I was so overcome with sadness for this man that I came around and asked him if I could hug him. He told me once again that he would never forget me as he left.

As the days and weeks became months, and I heard nothing more of the man, I got caught up in life and my own dramas and day to day doings. He started to fade from my memory. Then Calvin died and his death was all I could focus on. The drugs I was taking to numb the pain affected my thought processes and my memory. When I got the call regarding the man, I brushed it off. The person on the other end told me that I had been left property in a will. The person on the phone knew my full legal name. Still, I was convinced it wasn't meant for me and told him so. All these months later, it has come back. And not just wisps of memory...all of it. I remember the man's eyes, his name, what he looked like. I remember our talks, helping him to find a hotel and places to eat. I remember thinking how sad it was that he had no family to help him while he was dying. I remember the odd feeling as we said good-bye that he was going to be leaving me something in his will. I don't know how I knew, I just did. My stomach has been in knots since realizing that I have possibly thrown away my inheritance. I have been anxious and upset wondering how "J" would feel, knowing that I did not remember him when I was called by his estate lawyer. I feel an immense amount of regret not writing the number of the lawyer down. These past couple of weeks have been spent backtracking, trying to hunt down the location of the will, making calls to the city where the property had been left to me, talking to it's lawyers, notaries, city officials and real estate agents. I'm getting nowhere. My next step will be a legal will search but don't expect to get results. One lawyer I consulted advised that ninety percent of clients don't register their wills. In the meantime, I will be calling every lawyer in my province one by one and there are thousands of them. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack. Not only do I feel the need to honour my friend J. by hunting down the will, accepting what has been left for me and finding out more about his life, but at this point in our lives, this could be something life changing for us, a chance to restart somewhere else. I'm saddened my friend has died. I'm saddened that I was so preoccupied in my own grief over losing Calvin that I didn't even recognize his name. I'm worried that someone else will have stepped forward and claimed what J left for me "because he would never forget my kindness....", because I had pushed thoughts of him out of my mind. An old man with no family who thought enough of me to do something for me. I've made a huge mistake....

Fatigue

2009-12-16T21:29:00.000-08:00

The stress of our work situation and the holiday season is taking it's toll on me physically. I haven't slept properly in weeks, most nights averaging around four hours or less. I'm exhausted. My hair is falling out. I've been worrying incessantly about where things are going for us. There is also something huge that I've been obsessing about that I can't quite talk about yet, but it's something that is also causing my stress and lack of sleep. I'm tired yet I remain hopeful for a peaceful Christmas.

Georgia has also been teething which has been contributing to my lack of sleep. Her molars are coming in, in fact she is cutting two molars and two front teeth right now. Her little face is so red and rashy that I haven't bothered to get our Christmas portraits done this year. She is fiercely attached to me, wanting mommy when she's uncomfortable in the night. We've spent a few nights this past week snuggling on the couch, both of us trying to get comfortable with the other one long enough to catch a couple of zzz's but it doesn't seem to work. For all her sweet snuggling, Georgia is still biting me at least once or twice a day most days, usually when she's tired or frustrated. It hurts and my saying ouch or reprimanding her seems to make her giggle and do it more. Lately when she sinks her teeth into me, I just get up and put her down either in her exersaucer or in her playpen which is particularly upsetting for her if she wants me to hold her. She cries, I cry, we both get no sleep. Lorelei seems to be especially misbehaved lately as well as if the pressure of being "nice" for Santa is too much for her. My lack of sleep makes me lose my patience more quickly these days too so our house hasn't exactly been terribly happy lately.

I think the weather has also contributed to my lack of well being this last while, it's been so damn cold out I haven't wanted to venture out. Today because it warmed up substantially, I decided that I would go run a few errands. Because of the slush and melting snow and ice, it took me four tries to get out of the driveway today. Thankfully I was in the truck, otherwise I would have never gotten out in the van. Driving in the snow is intimidating for me since cracking up my car a couple of years back. I hate the feeling of imprisonment that winter brings, that I don't feel free to just venture out and live a normal life. On the flip side, I've watched a couple of excellent movies the last couple of days, something I haven't had time to do in awhile. It's been nice, I just wish I could fall asleep after. It's agonizing to lay down and not be able to shut off my head long enough to go to sleep at night, and I hate just laying there. Usually within twenty minutes of not sleeping, I am up and out of bed, either watching tv or reading blogs hoping to exhaust myself enough to get some quality rest before Lorelei is up and at it for the day. Tonight after supper I fell asleep on the couch so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that tonight is my night.

A Sad Day

2009-12-10T14:10:00.000-08:00

I miss my baby. Just typing those words has been enough to get the tears rolling down my cheeks and sobs shaking between my shoulder blades as I try to be quiet in my grief. Some days when I feel sad like this, I hate pretending. I hate stifling my tears because I'm worried about scaring the girls. Oh my God, I've felt them coming on since yesterday when I laid down to sleep and Shane told me, it had been thirteen months. Thirteen months since the births of our babies. I can't believe it. That day feels so fresh and new it could have been yesterday. Maybe because it's burned into my brain as one of the greatest days of my life. Remembering the joy brings an acute awareness of the sorrow, of the emptiness. I can't believe how much my life has changed in the last eighteen months. I can't believe how different I feel now as compared to before I got the diagnosis of Calvin's defect and the joy was suddenly sucked out of my life. Today I feel old and sad. Today I just want to curl up in a ball and howl because I'm tired of having to hold it together. I need a day to fall apart and not worry about the kids or Shane or anything else in life. Even now, as I'm writing and thinking about my baby boy and holding back those sobs, Lorelei has just come in and asked me in all her four year old wisdom, "Mom, why are you crying, are you crying because you miss Calvin?". I do. I miss him with every breath in my body, every hair on my head, every fibre of my existence. I miss the things I'm never going to get to do with him, the growing and changing and learning and discovering and exploring. I miss seeing those "cute" baby moments that make you laugh like hell because they're so adorable. I miss holding him and kissing him and smelling him and the feel of his hand. I'm so sad that I can't give him the love I have for him and the insanity of thought that comes when you're babylost. I'm tired of the searching, the crazy thoughts, the morbid reality of my child in the ground and thoughts of reborn dolls and cloning and dna and IVF and digging him up and grave blankets and thoughts of how, how we can fix this. How can I fix this? How can I bring him back, how can I give Shane a son, how can I make everything normal again? How can I make it better for Calvin who is dead now and missing out on the life he was supposed to have with me and his dad and sisters? How can I get better? I thought I was. I want Christmas this year, I don't ache like this every day, I certainly don't cry everyday anymore. But I think about him. I think about him during every part of my day, in all the mundane things I do. I think about him when I lay down to sleep eyes wide open and staring at the wall. I think of him as I kiss Georgia and close my eyes and remember how his fuzzy hair felt against my cheek, my lips. I want this to go away. I want someone to fix this for me, cut my memories out of my head so there is no more sadness...I hate being without him. I never wanted to be this person.

Support

2009-12-07T23:40:00.001-08:00

I've had a couple of comments lately thanking me for my support. Tonight I've really been thinking about our community and how much you all mean to me. This little group of ours is wonderful yet terrible all at once. I hate that we all relate to each other so well because of losing our children but I am so thankful for each and every mama out there that has shared a bit of her heart, her knowledge, her pain and her love with me as I navigate my grief journey. It's true, I honestly care so much about each and every one of you. Certainly I have gotten to know some of you women more than others, but the feeling is there. I cherish you. I cherish having people out there that understand my heart and who don't expect me to be "over it" or "healed by now" or "getting on with my life". People who understand that grief is a process that has tons of setbacks along the way. I have said things on my blog that I'm sure in any actual "conversation" with someone who hasn't lost a child would think that I needed to be locked up for. I am so grateful I can do that without judgement. I'm so grateful that I can cry my eyes out in my words and have the support of you reading and crying with me on the other end, understanding and acknowledging. It's a beautiful gift we give each other. I wish I could hug each and every one of you, spend hours talking over tea, look at photos and hold your hands as you cry. This is the best we can do given our geographical differences, but it works. I am constantly amazed by the strength and breveity of the women I follow and to be honest, I wish sometimes that I was more like some of you. I wish I wrote better, did better, supported better, was kinder, because you all are such an inspiration to me in your healing. I love Jesse, who has selflessly shared Oliver with me and let me watch his journey with the same defect my son Calvin was born with. I love what you are doing in Peyton's name, Kristin. I love what Franchesca and Lea and Carly and Bree do for other lost mamas. I love what Akul's mama did for me. I love Lindsay's art and Kristin's poems. I love Barbra's work and Birni's photography. You are all such amazing women. You touch my heart so much. Sometimes I feel as if I have little to offer in comparison to the things you all have done for me. If I was artsy or craftsy I would do something to honour all your babies, but I'm not. I have been trying to figure out what I can do to show you all how very much you mean to me but I have fallen short in finding something. However, I do want each and every one of you mamas (and daddys) to know that each of you have given me a very special gift by sharing your stories, your babies, and your heartbreak with me. You have given me a new sense of normal in my life. You reaffirm for me everyday that I am not the only one in the world who has lost a child. You reaffirm for me that I am NOT a nutjob, just a very sad mother who misses her child sometimes. You give me hope with your stories of happiness and new beginnings. Thank you so much. I love you all....Hugs

Are You Kidding Me?

2009-12-02T13:01:00.000-08:00

My husband, his brother, his father and our good family friend have been informed that as of December 15, they no longer have jobs. Right before Christmas, can it get any better? Sometimes I just wish things would go well for more than a moment or two, it feels like we haven't been able to catch a break for the last year and a bit. What is the most devastating thing of all is that I was actually looking forward to Christmas this year after a dismal one last year. The crappiest thing is that it affects Shane's whole family. Now instead of debating on what presents we will be getting our girls this year, we will be trying to figure out how to keep a roof over our heads and our bills paid. Excuse me if I sound a little bitter right now.

Saying Good-Bye

2009-11-29T15:55:00.000-08:00

One year ago today, we buried our son. When Calvin passed away November 16, 2008, I went into shock. After we held our son in the ICU and he took his last breath in my arms, we returned to my hospital room upstairs. I developed a severe headache. I threw up and started shaking uncontrollably. During the hours following our son's death, I developed a medical emergency. My bladder stopped working. I was still making urine but I was unable to release. By the time the doctor decided to take action and give me a Foley catheter, I had retained almost a litre of urine and my bladder was in danger of bursting. Once the catheter was inserted, the bag filled immediately and had to be dumped, I was crying and numb and in shock. I spiked a fever and was told that I would not be released from hospital until my bladder was working properly again. The goal was to keep the Foley in for twenty-four hours and then remove it to see if I could pee on my own. When it was removed, I was still unable to urinate and was retaining almost 800ml by the time it was reinserted. The doctors were puzzled. They told me sometimes the bladder undergoes trama during a c-section and becomes paralyzed but this was seven days later. I had also experienced a worsening of my pelvic pain and was requiring more medication to keep the pain under control. This too was puzzling the doctors. They told me I should no longer be requiring narcotic pain relief. At that point, I just wanted to be discharged.

From my hospital bed, I called my friend Carrie who was working at a funeral home here in my home town. We arranged for her boss to make the five hour drive down to Vancouver to pick up Calvin's body and bring it home for us. We would make the funeral arrangements when we moved home. Finally, three days after Calvin's death, I was discharged with strict orders to check in with MFM the following day. My doctor was afraid of letting me travel if I continued to have trouble with my bladder but I assured him that things would be fine and that I needed to go home to bury my son. Shane's mom and dad and his sister Susan were at the house in Vancouver helping us pack and looking after Lorelei. The goal was to be packed up and ready to leave Saturday morning, one week after Calvin had died. I think being around Shane and I in our grief was too much for his parents to handle, so after loading Shane's truck with some of our belongings, they set out for home on Friday, leaving Shane and I to finish packing up for the trip home Saturday.

I remember feeling detached on the drive home, wishing that we had chosen to bring Calvin's body back ourselves. Shane couldn't do it. I had suggested that I could hold Calvin for the drive back but he just couldn't bring himself to have our dead son in the van with us for the entire drive back, even though the hospital social worker had told us that several families chose to do it that way. As we pulled into our driveway upon returning home, everything felt hollow. I didn't want to be there without Calvin. I hated that we were coming home without our son.

The next week we met with the funeral home and made Calvin's arrangements. We had numerous family members who wished to come to the service from out of province so we chose to have the funeral on the Saturday of that week, thirteen days following Calvin's death. Truthfully, I don't remember much of the service. I was in extreme emotional pain and was suffering physically. During a follow up doctors appointment when we returned home, it was discovered that I was suffering from a massive e.coli infection in my uterus and bladder. I had probably taken four or five percocet the morning of the funeral. I was terrified that I would start howling great sobs during the service and that I would be unable to control myself. I don't even remember who came. All I do remember is that the chapel was full of our friends, and Shane's family. My family never came. It hurts me to this day that not one member of my family bothered to come.

Calvin's service was beautifully performed by a retired minister who is also a twin. Shane carried our son's casket out to the car to be transported to the cemetery and then carried Calvin from the car to his tiny grave. It broke my heart to watch my husband carrying our boy's casket, knowing that this would be our last good-bye. After a small graveside prayer, we returned to the funeral home. I couldn't bear to watch my son's body be lowered into the ground so we asked the minister to stay with Calvin until he was buried and we went back for refreshments.

That night I developed severe anxiety that Calvin hadn't been buried, that the minister had left him there on top of the ground. I was worried about animals or people defiling my son's body and couldn't sleep until I made Shane go back to the cemetery to make sure Calvin's body had indeed been buried. It gave me nightmares for weeks. Even though Shane assured me that everything was fine, I was still horribly worried that something would happen to him, that worry reinforced everytime I heard the coyotes howling in the night.

Today when I think of that day, I feel sad. I feel sad for all that we went through at that time, all that we've been through since. It's such a lonely, empty feeling to attend the funeral of your own child. It's something I hope to never have to do again God willing. It's something no parent should have to do. Today I remember my son one year after that sad day without the anguish, only a quiet whisper of sadness at the memories.

In Search of Peace

2009-11-28T13:01:00.001-08:00

I have been much more at peace lately than I have ever been since Calvin died. I'm not quite sure why, but perhaps it's because that dreaded one year angelversary has come and gone. In the first months after losing our son, time was very important. I counted the days, weeks, months without our boy. I couldn't get over that x amount of time had passed and that I was still living. Guilt ate at me constantly. As Calvin's year approached, I became extremely agitated. Not only was I dreading Georgia's birthday with the cake dilemma, but I felt an overwhelming sense that I was moving further and further away from my son. It made me angry and incredibly sad. How in the world do you justify your life carrying on when your child's life does not? Some would call it survivor's guilt I suppose, that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach that accompanies the question "Why him and not me?". I don't think there is one more thing that I could have felt guilty about when it comes to Calvin's life and death, I'm pretty sure that I felt guilty over every possible thing that could have happened to either cause his heart defect, cause the trauma he suffered during surgery, cause the overdose that I'm sure contributed in some way to his fragile state, or to cause the bleed in his brain because of ECMO. The guilt has not given me any sense of peace or any answer why, nor has it changed the situation. Although I have wished a thousand times that I could go back and do this or that differently, I can't. Calvin's death cannot be undone no matter how much bargaining I do with God, no matter how much baggage I carry on my self-imposed guilt trip. I think I am just beginning to realise this. And oddly, I have felt more at peace in this past couple of weeks than I have all year.

Another thing I have noticed as of late is that I am turning off the sappy music, changing the channel from sad shows that used to leave me paralyzed in tears as I watched someone else's tragedy unfold. I WANT to feel better. And I don't feel bad about wanting to either. I'm actually kind of surprised that I am okay with this. In the beginning, I desperately searched out anything that held meaning. Books, music, blogs, movies, anything I could relate to my pain. I was seeking some form of enlightenment that would give me answers, put my fears to rest and reassure me that I would see my son again in Heaven. The more I searched, the more focused I became on Calvin's loss and the pain became insurmountable. I doubted I would ever enjoy my life again. I expected to feel empty forever.

As of late, there has been a subtle shift in my feelings, a hint of light shining through. I'm not sure why, perhaps it has come merely through the passing of time, the softening of loss. Maybe it's because I have acknowledged that I am tired of feeling sad all the time and realize that only I can find the joy within again. Maybe it's the Christmas spirit that has filled my heart with hope for my life and my family. I'd like to think it's a gift from my son who perhaps whispered in my ear as I lay sleeping, "Time to smile again Mom...you need to start feeling better." Wherever this change came from, I appreciate the respite. Grief is exhausting, sucking the life right out of you. Yes, my son is dead and I miss him so very much, miss all the possibility for his life and the dreams I held for him. However, despite the fact that I miss Calvin, I can still love him. I can still imagine his beautiful eyes and curly blonde hair and I can remember how he felt in my arms, how his cheeks felt under my kiss. The remembering him and his life makes my heart shine with joy and love for my only son. And with it brings a feeling of serenity, that although my son has flown away, my love for him lives on and will never die despite the passage of time. I think I'm done searching for peace, and instead will embrace it when it comes to me.

A Sad Welcome

2009-11-25T21:56:00.000-08:00

It is with a heavy heart that I extend a hug, my most sincere condolences and a welcome to Ben and Sara. Ben and Sara lost their sweet daughter Olivia a little over three months ago. Olivia was born with Tetralogy of Fallot with Pulmonary Atresia, which was Calvin's original diagnosis in utero. It breaks my heart to hear that another angel has gotten her wings. Please visit Ben's blog and show them some support here:

http://adragonflysembrace.blogspot.com/

I guess it's almost a creepy feeling, like being the Wal-Mart greeter for the Dead Baby Club. I hate this club. I hate "welcoming" new members. I hate that once you're in it, there's no way out. I should be passing out sad face stickers at the door with the message that "Now that you're here, your life will never be the same again..." And it's true. Once you've had a child die, say good-bye to normal. Say good-bye to life as you've known it because it will never be the same again. Oddly enough, Lea at Nicholas' Touch blogged about this today. About how she fought against the idea that her life had changed forever when she lost Nicholas. Oh how I could relate to her post. I have hated every stinking second of being a babylost mother. I have railed in anger over the loss of my "before" life. It plain old sucks. It's been over a year for us now and I still hate it every day. I still think about my son everyday, I still miss him, still love him, still ache inside when I see things I would have liked to have bought for him. I don't know if those feelings ever go away. I know that Calvin's loss has softened a bit, instead of being a knife ripping through my heart and soul, it's become more of a dull ache in my chest, an ever present "awareness" of his absence.

I am saddened for Ben and Sara, knowing that they are soon to face the most painful Christmas of their lives without their precious Olivia. Shane and I were only 39 days past Calvin's death for our first Christmas post loss and it was an empty, hollow time for us. Not only did we have to fake it for our girls, but we were very much isolated with much of the family "giving us our privacy". I do understand that our grief at this most joyous time of the year probably made them uncomfortable, but privacy was the last thing we needed in those early days. What I have needed has changed over the course of this dark journey varying from needing acknowledgement of Calvin's life, to needing space and time to heal. Although I will never be or feel "perfect" in my grief, I have come to accept that because my feelings ebb and flow, that things will not always be okay with me emotionally and that I shouldn't expect them to. All I can hope for is a sense of peace, a coming to terms with this being my "now" life and not fighting for my yesterdays anymore. Not only have I had to learn with letting go of my son and the hopes and dreams I had for his life, but I've also had to learn to let go of my life as it was and that has been the hardest part since we said good-bye.

It would be my hope that my friends here will take a moment to visit A Dragonfly's Embrace to show support for this newly bereaved couple. God Bless....

The Pink Glove Dance

2009-11-22T11:29:00.000-08:00

I know I have emailed many of you with the link to this video but it made my day and I wanted to share it here too. What a fabulous way to spread awareness for breast cancer. Enjoy this fun video, it's sure to bring a smile to your face...check out the elderly man with the broom, too awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!

Embracing the Holidays

2009-11-20T21:59:00.000-08:00

Christmas last year was brutally painful for Shane and I. We had only buried our son twenty-six days before it's arrival and had it not been for our girls, we would not have bothered with it at all. When I think back to last year's Christmas and being a freshly bereaved mother with a newborn and toddler to take care of, I shudder. Thank goodness for autopilot, that automatic survival mode that kicks in after you've suffered through something traumatic, otherwise I'm sure our kids wouldn't have had Christmas at all. While we did make it through the holidays last year, they were far from joyous. Shane and I overspent in an effort to compensate for what we had just been through, spoiling the girls and trying to give Lorelei something happy to focus on. Truthfully, it was excessive and awful and no amount of spending filled the void that Calvin's death left in our lives. It was a season of numbed sadness with pasted on fake smiles and empty hearts.

I was so completely out of tune with the season last year in fact that it was the end of January before I realized the wrapping paper was still on the floor from Christmas morning and that my tree was so dead I would have to snap the branches off to retrieve my ornaments. I didn't send a card or mail a gift. The only reason Christmas came to our house at all was for Lorelei and Georgia. I don't think I could have put together Christmas dinner if I had tried, in fact I did not resume cooking anything until Calvin had been gone about six months.

But this year feels different. This year I want to feel the joy. I want to spend the month of December happily wrapping presents, decorating and baking. I want to spend evenings curled up on the couch in my pyjamas with our girls watching Christmas specials on television. I want to feel at peace. Truthfully I am excited about the holidays and the hope that the new year will bring a positive change with it's arrival. I don't expect everything to be sunshine, roses and lollipops however, I know there are still some difficult times ahead for us. The recession and Calvin's death ground Shane's business to a halt and times are tight financially. But it's the hope and promise of a new year that keeps me looking forward in anticipation. It's the first time in over a year that I have anticipated anything without a feeling of dread in my heart. Yes, I will miss our son dearly on Christmas morning as the girls rip into their packages and gifts and I'm sure there will be moments in the day itself that bring a feeling of melancholy. I expect it. I also know that I have lived through the worst Christmas of my life and that it is behind me and I survived. That in itself is reason to celebrate. So for now, I embrace the coming holidays in all their Hallmark glory with hope for joy and change and acceptance in the year to come. Hugs to all....

A Year Gone By

2009-11-19T22:54:00.000-08:00

We spent Calvin's Angel Day on Monday with Shane's parents, his brother Greg and wife Trisha who is expecting. The original plan was to go to the cemetery and then come back to our house for some lunch. I didn't have it in me to do any of the necessary planning. The H1N1 virus and it's aftermath of fatigue has simply drained any energy or ambition I might have had right now. I called Safeway and ordered sandwiches, veggies and dip and a cake platter and ran down to get them in the morning. I picked up Calvin's flowers while I was there and then came home to figure out just what exactly we were going to do at the cemetery. I had no idea. Between my lack of ambition, our kids, our colds and just dreading the day in general, we managed to make ourselves so far behind that when everyone got to our house and we're waiting to go to Calvin's grave, I ended up telling everyone we'd do lunch first.

After lunch, I printed off Kahlil Gibran's Joy and Sorrow and On Death to read at Calvin's grave and then went over to Mary's blog and stole her post "I Resolve" to also read. It was all I had. The weather was miserable, the wind blowing so hard I had to practically shout as I read the poems. The flowers Shane's parents brought we didn't end up putting down for fear they'd blow away and so after my quick words, and a small speech by Shane's dad we wrapped it up and came back home. I was just as relieved not to have had a big emotional scene, I didn't think I had it in me to cry in front of everyone.

The tears came later that night, as Shane and I sat alone on the porch talking about our son. I miss him. There's really not much more that can be said about it all. I'm weary and angry and sad and tired and not wanting to feel like this anymore. I want this year to be better and even though my son won't come back, I think I'm going to try and find a way to put some joy back into my life. I'm not sure how at this point, all I know is that I'm tired of feeling sad all the time. I need to find that spark inside and let some light burn through all this darkness. I need to start living again. I think I'm ready. Maybe.

The Day He Flew Away...

2009-11-16T15:17:00.001-08:00

Calvin remained unstable throughout the night. Dr. C had called a couple of times to let us know that Calvin was having problems with his oxygen saturation, a one point it was down in the 40 percentile. The doctors were fighting to get Calvin oxygenated and just as his sats began to rise, his blood pressure started to drop. On through the night it went like that, sats up, pressure down, pressure up, sats down. Finally at ten o'clock in the morning, Dr. C called to say Calvin was stable and we could come down to see him. No sooner had Shane and I arrived in the ICU than Calvin's pressure started to drop very quickly. I was horrified when I saw my baby. He was blue, his saturation levels only in the upper 60's, and his little mouth and tongue were swollen. Dr. C asked us to leave again, saying that he had to run some tests and that he would call us.
Back in the room we paced. When it had been over an hour and we hadn't heard anything yet, Shane decided to run to McDonalds for some food because he hadn't eaten in a few days. He was gone maybe ten minutes when the phone in my room rang. It was Dr. C saying he needed to see us right away and that it wasn't very good news. I explained Shane was out but that I would call him and get him to come back right away. I called Shane and he had just pulled out of the drive thru and was on his way back. I called Dr. C and told him I'd see him in about fifteen minutes.

When Shane returned, we brought Georgia to the nurses' station and we walked down to the ICU. We were holding hands and I was scared. Shane told me not to worry, that he probably just needed to go back into surgery. When we walked into the ICU, we were immediately ushered into a small room. Dr. C, Dr. S and the pediatrician on call were all in there. They asked us to sit down and I started shaking. Dr. C explained that he suspected Calvin's falling blood pressure had to do with him bleeding somewhere but that when he checked his chest, it was fine. At that point, he had decided to do an ultrasound of Calvin's head and they discovered that Calvin had suffered a Grade Three bi-lateral brain bleed. I already knew that Grade Four was the most severe, so I knew right away our boy was in trouble. I looked directly at Dr. C and said, "So what does that MEAN?" The pediatrician on call leaned forward and started to explain that Calvin would most likely develop cerebral palsy, that he would be deaf, probably blind and profoundly retarded. I was crying hysterically by now and so was Shane. We asked if they could operate to relieve some of the pressure in his head and they replied yes, but that he probably wouldn't survive surgery. Suddenly, I realized what they were saying and knew they were asking us to let Calvin go. I blurted out, "OH MY GOD, ARE YOU ASKING US TO...Then Dr. C shhh'd me. He had not been able to look at either Shane or I the entire time we were in there and I realized he had tears in his eyes. Shane was shaking his head and crying as the doctors explained that Calvin would continue to bleed into his brain because of the heparin in the ECMO machine and that his heart couldn't function without it. "Please, my husband begged, Please save my boy." At that time I reached over and took Shane's hand and told him quietly, "Honey, they can't." We were both sobbing our hearts out as Dr. S passed me the paper to sign to remove Calvin from life support.

I signed the papers knowing Shane couldn't do it and then I asked the Doctors if we could bring Georgia down, because we didn't have any pictures of our twins together. They said yes, if her pediatrician would clear her to come down. We asked if we could hold him and they said yes and then I asked Dr. C if he would please sew up my baby's chest once it was over. With tears in his eyes, he nodded yes. We asked if we could donate any of Calvin's organs, only to be told no. No transplant team would take them because his chest had been open and exposed to infection. No one could have them because of the heparin. We asked them to call the chaplain and that we would go upstairs to get Georgia and Dr. C agreed to call the MFM doctor to get me some Ativan. They told us they would call when everything was arranged and they were ready.
Back in my room, I told Shane that I wanted to keep Calvin's death private. Just us and Georgia and that we would phone and let his mom know afterwards. Greg, Trisha and Shane's dad were on their way back to the Okanagan to get back to work so they would have to be called later.

When the pediatrician cleared Georgia to go down to the ICU and when Dr. C called us, we headed down. Val, my maternity nurse was upset I was leaving just as I was supposed to be getting my daily checkup and when I explained that we were going to remove our son from life support, I don't think she understood that he was going to die. She snottily asked me how long it would take and was horrified when I answered back, "However long it takes my son to die." Crying, we walked hand in hand to the ICU, both of us taking a deep breath before we entered.

It started to feel like a dream as we walked over to Calvin's bedside and sat down in the rocking chairs beside his bed. They had curtained off his bed from view and as Shane held Georgia, they started to remove Calvin from all the tubes and wires that were keeping him alive and placed him in my arms. I was crying as he was handed to me. My handsome son was so blue and still. Unconscious, the only thing they left him on was the morphine drip so that he wasn't in any pain. Instinctively, Georgia reached back towards Calvin and the nurse, seeing her reaching for her twin, had Shane move closer and then joined their hands. My husband and I cried as our babies held hands and were together again for the first time since they were born. I was oblivious of the camera flashing, all I could see was my son, all I could feel was the pain. All too soon, I passed Calvin over to Shane and my husband said his good-byes. In all the years we had been together, I had hardly seen him cry. I saw him cry, I felt his heart breaking along with mine as we held our son, knowing he would soon die.

Spiritual care came and performed a benediction. We then had the heart within a heart ceremony, the chaplain tying a small heart around Calvin's wrist and then placing the larger heart around my neck. She explained that Calvin would always have a piece of my heart, and that the empty space in the centre of mine would signify the piece of my heart that had gone with him when he passed away. As I rocked our son, various people involved in Calvin's care came to say good-bye and to place a hand on Shane and I's shoulders. Many of the staff were crying with us. After checking Calvin's heart several times and knowing that our son was still alive, the doctors decided to move us to a quieter room, away from the hub of the ICU. As I carried Calvin down the hallway through the ICU, I felt the eyes of many parents on me, felt their pain and their fear as they sat beside their children's bedsides. I couldn't meet their eyes. Shane couldn't bring himself to hold him anymore, he was absolutely grief stricken so I sat with Calvin in the rocking chair in the private room. The lights had been dimmed but even in the low light, I could his face turning black from the lack of oxygen and I knew it wouldn't be long.

About an hour after Calvin had been removed from life support, he passed away quietly in my arms. As we sat there alone, Shane suddenly looked at me and said, "I think he's gone now, I don't feel him anymore." Wanting desperately for him not to be gone, I said, "I don't think so, I think he's still here..." Minutes later, the pediatrician came in and confirmed what Shane already knew, that Calvin had died. I cried and cried and cried, it was like a dam breaking, I knew it was over and that he wouldn't be coming back. Once my heaving sobs were under control, Shane and I left so that Dr. C could sew up Calvin's chest and so the nurses could give him a bath. They asked us we would like his hand and foot casts done in plaster to which we answered yes. They also asked if we had an outfit we would like to put on him when they called us back and I said yes, that Shane would go home and get something for him. He had to go tell his mother anyways and didn't want to do it on the phone.

Walking out of the ICU and leaving Calvin there alone in that room was the hardest thing in the world. I felt dazed, like my head was detached from my body, like I was outside myself. As we stepped out the doors of the ICU and into the hall, my head started to throb and within seconds I had the worst headache I'd ever had. By the time we reached my room I was shaking all over and as my nurse Val walked in to tell me how sorry she was, I threw up all over myself and the floor. I started crying like a child, I wanted my mother so badly. I just wanted to crawl into my mom's lap and have her hold me and rock me and tell me everything would be okay like she used to when I was younger. Val helped clean me up and helped me back into bed. Shane left to go tell Lorelei and his mom that our son had died and to pick him up a sleeper, we only had so much time. I lay down and cried great heaving sobs into my pillow as I watched the nurses tape a sign to my door, letting visitors and staff know to check at the front desk before entering my room.

Shane was back within about an hour with my bottle of Ativan and a diaper bag full of sleepers for Calvin. Together we walked back down to the ICU to dress our son and to say good-bye again. As I walked into the private room I saw Calvin lying on the table. It was like a miracle had taken place. He was no longer black, his colour had returned to normal and my son looked like he was sleeping peacefully. The ICU nurse Gabrielle had already started to dress Calvin and as we arrived with his sleepers she told me, "Go ahead and dress him, hold him all you want, but you need to know that he's starting to get a little stiff." Rigor mortis was already setting into Calvin's body but I didn't care. My son looked so beautiful and at peace. He was clean from his bath, Dr. C had sewn up his chest and every tube and wire had been removed. He was my baby and I wanted to hold him again more than anything. I carefully dressed Calvin and then picked him up. I rocked him and kissed him and told him how much I loved him and how my heart had broken when he died. I couldn't get enough of holding him. Shane couldn't bring himself to hold Calvin because of the rigor and he hadn't wanted to bring the camera down to take pictures of him. I wished with all my heart he had because Calvin looked so incredibly beautiful at that point, so pretty and at peace. All too soon, we left to return to my room, leaving our son behind in the ICU, leaving our hearts and hopes with him.

As it Starts To Fall Apart

2009-11-15T19:46:00.000-08:00

I woke up feeling cheerful and cautiously optimistic that Calvin was going to be okay. That feeling was fleeting after receiving a call from Dr. C that a large blood clot had been discovered in the ECMO machine. If the clot made it's way into Calvin's body, it could cause a devastating stroke. The only solution was to remove Calvin from the machine, see how well his heart was beating upon restarting it and as a last resort, putting him back on ECMO if things weren't going well. Dr. C mentioned that they would try a less invasive form of ECMO, the venous venous machine that instead of being hooked into Calvin's arteries, would be attached in through his veins. It was a light-weight version of ECMO with fewer complications. He would be going back into surgery that afternoon.

Meanwhile, Shane had gone to visit our son in the ICU and came back elated. Calvin was awake and looking around. He didn't appear to be in any discomfort and had responded to his dad's voice. We both took this as a hopeful sign that our son wouldn't need to go back on ECMO, that perhaps his heart had healed enough to beat suffiently on it's own.

All too soon, Calvin was taken back into surgery. We had been told to expect two to three hours before we'd hear anything. By the five hour mark, at eight-thirty pm, I told Shane that something was wrong, it was taking too long. Shane went down to the ICU to see what was going on only to be told there was no news. Maybe another two hours went by before Dr. C called to say that when they had removed Calvin from ECMO, his heart still wasn't healed enough to beat on it's own so they had put him on the light version of ECMO. Unfortunately, Calvin's body started to react to the new machine, producing lactates and histamines that Dr. C said was Calvin's body's way of saying it was very "unhappy" with the new form of life support and that he needed to unfortunately put him back on the original machine. Shane and I were devastated. We knew that Calvin's odds of survival had just dropped to thirty-five percent and that this second round was more likely to bring on complications. However, it was once again our son's only chance so giving the go ahead to have Calvin put back on ECMO, Shane once again signed the papers and Dr. C went back to the OR with Calvin.

Around midnight, Dr. C called to say that Calvin was having difficulty with his blood pressure and oxygen saturation and for us not to come down to the ICU. He said he would be monitoring Calvin through the night and that he would call periodically to give us updates. Worried, Shane headed home to sleep on the couch and I settled in for a restless night with Georgia.

The Overdose

2009-11-14T23:19:00.000-08:00

We didn't sleep much that night. Shane finally went back down to spend some time with Calvin after I took Trisha down to see him. I tried to rest but couldn't, my mind too busy with worry over my four day old son. Dr. C finally left around eleven or twelve o'clock the day after Calvin was first brought in for surgery, finally going to get some rest after spending more than twenty four hours at Calvin's side. Shane bid him good rest and Dr. C told us he would be in touch after he'd had some sleep.

It was sometime that afternoon, Calvin still bleeding copious amounts that two things happened. A decision was made to lower the dose of heparin in the ECMO machine to try and control some of Calvin's bleeding and our son suffered not one, but two massive overdoses of antibiotics. About two o'clock that afternoon, Shane came upstairs with a grim look on his face. "I have something to tell you and please don't freak out, " he said. He then proceeded to tell me that the pediatrician on call in the ICU, who had been on duty for thirty-six hours straight, in his fatigue had accidentally overdosed Calvin not once, but twice on massive amounts of antibiotics. The doctor, after realizing his mistake, tearfully approached my husband and told him what had happened and that Calvin would need to be put on dialysis to clean the drug out of his system. We were now risking organ damage due to the overdose of drugs he had been given. It was a tense eight hours. Calvin was placed on dialysis and amazingly enough his own body had already started the process of getting rid of the drugs. He responded very well and within eight hours was out of danger. I, on the other hand was furious. I kept thinking, How? How could this happen to our boy when he's already facing so much? How could they let a doctor stay on duty for that many hours straight? Why Calvin? I was so sad for our son, for all he had been through already in his short life.

Dr. C came back to the ICU later that evening, upset by what had happened to our son while he had been gone. He checked Calvin's output and miraculously, Calvin's bleeding had slowed down. He had been through fourteen units of blood by this point, enough to entirely replace all of his own blood almost four times over. For all that our son had been through, the slowing of the bleeding was encouraging and Dr. C was optimistic. It was good news. I felt relieved for the first time since Calvin's surgery and I dared hope that things would be okay. Shane and I kept going down to check on and off throughout the night, only to be told that Calvin was holding his own, that our son was improving. We were so relieved.

Surgery

2009-11-13T20:40:00.000-08:00

After feeding Georgia at six am, I sat nervously waiting for Shane to come back from the ICU to get me. He arrived at about twenty minutes to seven and we took Georgia down to the nurses station so that we could walk Calvin to the operating room. My heart was thudding in my chest as Shane wheeled me downstairs and the tears were already starting to form. After scrubbing our hands, we headed immediately for Calvin's bed. Painfully, I rose from my wheelchair and walked over to the rocking chair beside his bedside. Wendy put Calvin in my arms and we snuggled for about ten minutes. All too soon, Dr. C came and told us they were ready for him. Shane took Calvin from my arms and we walked the short walk through the ICU to the operating room doors. We stood there for a moment, kissing him and telling him how much we loved him and to please be strong and fight for us. My heart was breaking as we handed him over to the nurse to take him into surgery. She told us to go back upstairs and that it would probably be at least four to five hours before we heard anything.

Back in my room, I broke down sobbing. Shane held me close and the two of us drifted off to sleep in my hospital bed. A couple of hours later, I awoke to feed Georgia and have my daily checkups with the MFM doctors and the pediatrician. We had asked Mandy, the cardiac care nurse involved in Calvin's case to hold a special meeting for our family at eleven o'clock that day, to explain what Calvin was facing and what was happening to him. I had been afraid for so long that he would die, but everytime I brought up how serious his defect was, I felt that Shane's parents either didn't take me seriously or were so positive that nothing could happen that they didn't want to talk about the what if's. When Mandy came to get Shane's parents and Greg and Trisha, I tried to rest and not worry about what was happening with Calvin. It was impossible to do. Both Shane and I had been existing on about two hours sleep a day since the twins were born and although I was bone tired, I was so worried about my son that sleep wouldn't come.

The hours seemed to pass so slowly. Both Shane and I were restless and anxious. At about the six hour mark, when we hadn't heard anything, Shane decided to go down to the ICU to see what was going on. At the ICU, Shane spoke with Mandy who had been told by Dr. C that everything was going extremely well and that Calvin was doing great. Shane had just come back to the room to report that our boy was doing fine when Dr. S walked in with a serious look on his face. Calvin's heart was so traumatized by the magnitude of the surgery that when they had gone to restart it, they realized the right ventricle was unable to squeeze properly enough to keep his blood circulating. He then handed over the consent forms to have Calvin placed on ECMO (extra corporeal membrane oxygenation), in other words, life support. Immediately I turned on Shane and started screaming at him, calling him a liar for telling me that our son was okay. Mandy came running into the room at that point, saying that Shane had no sooner left than Dr. C called to say that Calvin needed to be placed on life support or that he would die. Dr. S held out the papers for me and I shook my head, "No, I can't, the other doctor said that ECMO is a bad thing, " I said crying. "Would you do it if it were your child?, I asked Dr. S. He looked directly at me and very bluntly told me, "Put it this way, it's the only chance he's got," he said. Shane literally grabbed the paper and pen out of Dr. S's hands and signed. As they left, Dr. S told Shane to read through the complications so that we would be aware of what could happen and they both agreed that it would be best for me not to know at that point. I was a sobbing heap in the bed, terrified for my son.

Originally told that Calvin's surgery would take eight hours, we were at the fourteen hour mark before he came out. At eleven o'clock that night, we finally got the call to come down to the ICU to see our son and have a consult with the surgeon, Dr. C. Greg and Trisha came down with us to the consult room and we waited for what seemed forever for Dr. C to come in. I was in a complete daze by then, from worry, from the drugs I was on for pain, from lack of sleep. I was nearly out of my head. I needed Greg and Trisha there to help me understand and remember what was being said to me about Calvin's condition. Dr. C told us that Calvin's Truncus was a true case of Type 3, that his pulmonary arteries came off the trunk at a 180 degree angle. There was no black and white, he was a true rare type 3. He also told us that the bovine artery and the plastic conduit took up so much of the muscle of the right ventricle that it wasn't until they had tried to start his heart again that they realized how bruised his heart muscle was from the surgery. He explained that Calvin was bleeding alot right now and that he had needed nine units of blood during his surgery. He was very concerned about the bleeding and being on ECMO didn't help because the machine had to be continuously infused with heparin to prevent blood clots from forming inside the tubing. The blood thinners were making Calvin bleed all that much more. That said, Dr.C felt that by keeping Calvin on ECMO for a few days would give his heart a chance to rest and heal and that hopefully, when they tried to restart it again, it would beat properly. When I asked Dr. C how long Calvin could stay on ECMO, he told me that usually by seven days they know whether the patient will recover or not. He also told us that if Calvin came off ECMO and then needed to be put back on it for any reason, that his chance of survival dropped to thirty-five percent. Right now we were looking at sixty-five. Dr. C also explained that Calvin had so many wires, tubes and monitors coming off him and that with his chest left open, it may be hard for us to see him that way. He said, "Just look at his face, touch him and talk to him. Let him know you are there." He explained that Calvin would not be conscious, that they were keeping him asleep to minimize his pain but that for his sake, we needed to let him know we were there.

Shane and I finally got to see our son at midnight, seventeen hours since we took him to the operating room doors. As we approached his bedside, which had been moved beside the operating room just in case, I knew that our boy had been through so much. I felt Shane's knees start to buckle beside me and I held him up so that he didn't faint. Seeing Calvin like that was too much for Shane and he started to cry. Telling me he couldn't stay, he left to go outside and get some air. I walked over to our son's bed and looked down at him. He was bloody and lying there so still. It was absolutely heartbreaking to see him like that, but I had to see him. I had to touch him and tell him I loved him and kiss him and let him know that mommy was there. I also had to see him for me, so that my vivid imagination didn't drive me crazy wondering just how bad he looked. I had to see him just in case anything happened. I looked at Dr. C who had just spent seventeen hours operating on our son and who was now perched on a stool by his bedside. "What now?" I asked. "Now you go and get some rest and we wait, " was his reply. "What about you?", I asked. "I just want to make sure he's doing okay before I go and sleep, " said Dr. C. Thanking him profusely, and admonishing him to go and get something to eat, I kissed Calvin goodnight and went back to my room where Shane, Greg and Trisha waited. I felt like I was going to fall apart, to break down any second and I was amazed that both Shane and I were still functioning. As I walked in, I looked at Shane and said, "So now we wait...."

The Day Before His Surgery

2009-11-12T19:11:00.000-08:00

Shane and Calvin snuggling in the ICU the day before Calvin's surgery

Rocking our son, I spend as much time as possible with him before his surgery.

We had gotten an early morning visit from Dr. S to let us know that Calvin would be having his surgery tomorrow. He told us that we would be meeting with the surgeon, Dr. C, sometime later on that day. Calvin's condition had improved so much that he was off everything, no CPAP, no NG tube, nothing but a monitor on his little foot making sure his oxygen saturation stayed good. We spent the entire day going back and forth between our room and the ICU. During an afternoon visit when both Shane and I went down together having left Georgia at the nurses' station, I arrived in time for Calvin's feed. His ICU nurse Wendy was just about to give him a bottle and she asked me if I would like to do it. Immediately I said yes and Shane grabbed me a rocking chair to sit in while Wendy handed me my son and the bottle. Calvin drank ferociously, his appetite brought a smile to my face. He didn't look frail or sick at all. He was a hungry, alert boy, gazing at me the whole time I fed him. We didn't stop looking at each other and I couldn't stop smiling at my beautiful son. I had a tremendous amount of hope that everything would be alright. After Calvin's feed, I tried with no avail to get him to burp. I rubbed his back, patted it, put him right up to my shoulder but no burp. Shane also tried and he is the expert burper in the family but he couldn't get a burp either. When Wendy came to check on us, we mentioned that Calvin hadn't burped and she took him from me and began thumping quite strongly on his little back. I was horrified and worried she was hurting him but a second later Calvin gave us the biggest burp ever and in moments was snuggled back in my arms. I rocked him and rocked him, telling him he had to be strong for us, that he had to fight because we needed him here with us. The whole time I held him, he gazed silently into my eyes. All too soon, it was time for Shane to take me back upstairs to feed Georgia so I left, telling Calvin I'd be back to see him later.

Eyes wide open, this time with Calvin was so memorable because he was awake almost the whole time.

Happy snuggles with our boy.

Shane spent much of the day with our son. He felt it was important for Calvin to know we were there for him and that he was loved so very much. Shane spent much of that day holding our son, playing music for him on his Blackberry, telling him how much he was loved and kissing him. He would come back up to the room for awhile to check on Georgia and I but he was restless when he was apart from Calvin and the ICU kept silently calling him back.

About seven o'clock that night, we got a message to come to the ICU together to meet the surgeon, Dr. C. We left Georgia in care of the nurses in Fir, the locked down ward for drug addicted mothers, the only ward with a fulltime nursery. They knew of our situation and were quite willing to watch Georgia whenever we had to go down to visit Calvin. As we walked into the ICU, we were greeted by Dr. C who led us to a small private room. I was a bit taken back looking at him, for some reason, I had expected Dr. C to be older. He looked to be about my age, like someone I could have gone to high school with and had the most charming smile and demeanor. Instantly, I felt comfortable with him. He explained what Calvin's surgery would entail, fixing the hole in his heart, connecting a bovine artery to one of the valves and putting in a plastic conduit from the heart to the lungs. Dr. C explained that the Truncus operation was one of his "favorites" because of it's complexity. He explained Calvin would be put on ice, to lower his body temperature and give them more time to work with his heart stopped. He told us to expect that Calvin's chest would be left open to prevent the heart from hitting the ribs during swelling and that he would have basically a clear bandage over his open wound. When it was all over, they would restart his heart. At that point I asked what happened if his heart didn't restart and Dr. C said, "Well then we go to ECMO which is a form of life support that we don't like to use much, it reduces his odds of surviving if he needs to be placed on it, but basically it's the last hope." He also told us that the surgery would take about eight hours and that Calvin would need alot of blood products. "Truncus patients bleed, and not just from their chests, from everywhere," he said. Suddenly I was terrified. It was nine o'clock at night and my baby was having surgery at seven o'clock the next morning. As we got up to go, Dr. C walked over to Calvin's bed with us and looked down at him and said, "He sure is cute". I looked at Dr. C and said, "Take good care of him please." I had tears in my eyes as he said, "I will, I promise." I looked back at him and said, "I trust you." Dr. C then told us he would see us in the morning and bid us a goodnight.

Suddenly I felt the urge to pray. I'm not an overly religious person but at this particular moment, I needed to pray and I needed the whole family to pray with me. I asked the ICU nurse to call the hospital chaplain and ask him to come and pray for my son. When she called, he was at home an hour away and he asked if he could come down in the morning and do it. I answered no, because Calvin's surgery was starting at seven and the family wouldn't be at the hospital at that time. The chaplain agreed to come and within the hour, Shane, Lorelei, Greg, Trisha, and Shane's parents, Karen and Garry were down in the ICU at Calvin's bedside. We all held hands in a circle as I held Calvin in my arms and the chaplain prayed for Calvin to have a safe surgery. It was an extremely powerful moment and I could feel the love in the room for my son. Shortly after the prayer ended, Shane's parents left to take Lorelei back to the house to go to bed. Shane wanted to spend some more time with Calvin, so he asked Greg to stay with me and Georgia in the room. That way, I too could come down and see Calvin knowing that Greg and Trisha were looking after Georgia.

Shane came back to the room around three am to have a little nap. I had dozed on and off with Greg there keeping me company (Trisha had eventually left around one am), and after feeding and changing Georgia, I decided to go down to the ICU to spend some more time with my son before his surgery. Somehow, I managed to wheel myself downstairs and I spent the next hour and a half just rocking my son and telling him how scared I was and how much I loved him. As I was getting ready to go upstairs, tears streaming down my cheeks, I again told him to fight, to be strong, that I needed him to get better. Calvin was looking at me with his big blue eyes and suddenly he winked at me. It was like he understood what I had just said to him. With one last kiss before I went back upstairs, I told him again and again how much I loved him and that I would see him before his surgery.

Shane was awake and very subdued when I got back into the room. He said he needed to be with his son and that he would be back for me before the surgery time so that we could walk Calvin to the operating room. With a kiss I watched him go and as I lay down to get another hour of sleep or so before it was time to go back again, I started to cry. I was so scared. I had never been this scared in my life.

A Year Ago...A Day of Visits and Getting To Know Our Son

2009-11-11T19:10:00.000-08:00

Sleeping peacefully, Calvin at one day old.

Calvin on CPAP

Having been removed from CPAP, taken on Shane's Blackberry.

Calvin with his soother in the ICU.

I had called my grandmother to tell her about the births of the twins and arranged for her to come and visit. I knew she would be there sometime around three o'clock when visiting hours in the maternity ward started. Meanwhile, we had another consultation with Dr. S explaining what Calvin's condition was all about and the repairs he would need to fix his heart. We still had no surgery date or time and because it was a stat holiday, the hospital was on bare bones staff and we wouldn't know when his surgery would be until sometime the following day.

Shane spent most of the day going back and forth between the NICU and our room. He spent hours visiting with Calvin, holding him, snuggling him and singing to him. In between visits with our son, he would come back to the room and show me pictures taken on his Blackberry and tell me what was going on with him. He had been put on CPAP the previous evening and his breathing was improving enough that the doctors were preparing to remove him from it. It was good news. I had been highly distressed to see Calvin on the CPAP machine (constant positive air pressure), his little face almost obscured by the mask. All around, Calvin's condition was improving and it gave us hope that things would be alright. I couldn't wait to get my catheter out so that I could go down to the NICU to visit him. As it turned out, my aunt, uncle and grandmother arrived before that would happen and we spent a happy hour in the room. My grandmother who is ninety, took great joy in holding Georgia while we talked about the births and about what might happen with Calvin's surgery. Shane offered to take her down to the NICU to see Calvin and she went happily only to tell me that he was absolutely beautiful and that she would never forget him sucking away on the big green soother the nurses had given him. For once, it was a pleasant visit with my family although very short and they left shortly after seeing the babies.

Sometime around suppertime, I got my catheter out and Shane offered to take me down to the ICU where Calvin had been transferred. All cardiac patients are transferred to the ICU when they are stable to await surgery and to receive specialized care. When we got there, we went through the ritual of washing then disinfecting our hands and then Shane led me over to the bed where our son lay. He was awake and looking around and when the nurse asked me if I wanted to hold him, I eagerly said yes. It was such a beautiful experience, even in the ICU with all the monitors and alarms going off all the time and for a few moments, it was just Calvin and I. I couldn't get over how much hair he had, curly strawberry blonde hair tufting everywhere and the biggest blue eyes. His eyes were such a deep shade of blue that in all of our pictures, they look black. He was so beautiful. I just kept staring and staring at him, looking at all his little features. His nose was all Shane, same with his lips, but the shape of his eyes, his ears, his hands and feet were all me. All my babies have been blessed to get my Dad's hands, long slender fingers and just really beautiful hands. All too soon, it was time for me to go back. There is no special care nursery for situations like ours, so Georgia was being watched at the nurse's station. I kissed him several times and told him how much I loved him and needed him to be strong and told him I'd see him later. I was expecting to hear from the surgeon that night, so I knew I'd be back to see him again shortly.

The first two days of Calvin's life were fairly uneventful and gave both Shane and I good opportunity to spend time with our son. We were left hanging on a surgery date and time however and that had made me very nervous, not knowing when our son might be whisked away. Looking back, the day he was born, and the next two days are times I treasure. Days full of love and hope for our boy, spent snuggling and kissing him and telling him how much he was loved. He was so very, very loved.

One Year Ago We Welcome Our Twins

2009-11-10T19:55:00.000-08:00

Georgia is born through my incision at 2:47pm. Calvin is born one minute later.

Georgia being assessed after her delivery.

Shane and I spending precious moments with Calvin before he is taken to the NICU.

It's been a quiet day here. Everyone in our family is sick with H1N1 right now so it was decided we would celebrate Georgia's first birthday this coming weekend. We will also be marking Calvin's passing this weekend coming as well. Today wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, while I wish with all my heart my son was here celebrating his first birthday with Georgia, maybe it's because we haven't had the official party yet with cake and presents so it hasn't really sunk in yet. We spent a quiet day at home, I snuggled with Georgia and remembered her birth one year ago with warm feelings of love, for her and for Calvin. The day they were born was truly one of the happiest days of my life....

I woke up at 7:30am after a miserable three hours sleep. I joined Shane and Lorelei in the livingroom of our rented home long enough to eat a bowl of cereal and decide to go back to bed. Because Lorelei had just turned three and wasn't very good at leaving me alone when I tried to nap, I locked the bedroom door behind me and crawled into bed. About 9:30am I rolled over and felt a "pop" inside me and instantly started gushing water. Trying to sit up in bed, I yelled for Shane that my water had broken but it was coming out so fast that I couldn't stand up and the door was still locked. In panic mode, Shane grabbed a knife and popped the lock to get into the bedroom and was instantly and completely scared out of his mind. After telling him to grab me a towel and help me out of bed, I waddled to the bathroom to finish gushing over the toilet and I told Shane to call his parents. As I was getting cleaned up, he called his parents to start the long drive to Vancouver and then called our family friend Jane in Abbotsford to drive in to look after Lorelei. I got dressed and Shane and Lorelei then drove me to Labour and Delivery and dropped me off and then went back home to wait for Jane to show up to look after Lorelei.

At the hospital, I was admitted and given a gown to put on and led to a bed. Soon, a student nurse named Brock was in with me and he had been instructed to start my IV. I'm pretty sure he'd never done one on a live person before and he was so scared that he originally stabbed me with the IV needle only to yank it out again in horror and then as I started to bleed all over the place, he blushed, apologized profusely and went to get another nurse to help him. A gazillion questions followed as they hooked me up to the fetal monitors, "How do you know your water broke, maybe you just peed, sometimes that happens when you're this far along and the baby sits on your bladder...." Well, I know for a fact that I didn't pee and was a little offended that they figured that's what had happened but I continued to answer their questions and let them poke and prod me with needles until I had to get up to go to the bathroom. As I stood up to get out of bed, another gush of amniotic fluid came out and splashed down onto the floor and all over poor Brock's shoes. Still, the nurse grabbed the little paper they use and was dipping it into the puddles on the floor to determine whether my water had actually broken. Duh. Anyhow, it was not long after that they came and told me to call my husband because I would be going into the operating room in less than an hour. I called Shane who was just getting Lorelei situated with Jane and he was on his way.

Shane and I parted ways at the door of the operating room. He had to get gowned and scrubbed and I had to have my spinal anesthetic. As I hunched over, as much as I could with my enormous belly, the student anestheseologist tried repeatedly to get the needle into the right place in my spine. By her sixth try I was sobbing and scared and tired but thankfully, it went into the right place and within a minute of swinging my legs up onto the table, I couldn't feel anything from my chest down. Shane came in and then things started to progress very quickly. We had a team of sixteen people in the delivery room with us including doctors, nurses, the anestheseologists, ICU team, cardiology and a couple of students. It was crazy. I remember lying there and finally asking if we were going to get started soon when the doctor said, "Baby A is just about out, Shane get your camera...." Shane stood up and got a picture of Georgia being born through my incision. He was shaking when he sat back down next to me. The nurses were laughing over how big she was and how none of them had ever seen twins with double chins before. Georgia weighed in moments later at a hefty 7lbs 10oz. Hearing her cry for the first time brought me to tears. One minute later Calvin was born and Shane was up going back and forth between our two babies. It seemed like forever before I heard Calvin cry and I was starting to worry. We had been told he might be blue at birth, that we might not be able to hold him depending on how his condition was and we knew they would be taking hime to the NICU right away. Within about five minutes, Calvin was placed on my chest and Shane and I fell in love with our son. He was gorgeous and pink and looked so perfectly healthy you wouldn't know anything was wrong by looking at him. I kissed him and stroked him and told him how much I loved him and all too soon, the team collected him to take him to the NICU to stabilize him and get a cardiac echo to determine what condition he was born with. Shortly after they took Calvin away, I started feeling faint and then I started shaking uncontrollably. Shane freaked out because my lips were turning blue and as I turned to look towards the blood pressure monitor, I noticed my pressure had fallen from a sky high 201/155 to 70/45. Because I was still in surgery, the doctors were still working on tying my tubes and sewing me up, they became frantic to keep me conscious. I kept being given medicine to bring my pressure back up but within minutes I was shaking and my pressure was dropping again. The doctor kept telling me to keep my eyes open, talk to her, do not faint as they frantically got a pair of pressure stockings on me. Every 30 seconds, the stockings would inflate and squeeze my blood towards my organs, helping my blood pressure stablize. Finally, I started feeling better and the next thing I knew, we were headed into recovery, Georgia in my arms.

In recovery, I got to spend a couple of precious hours holding my daughter and bonding with her. I never had that with Lorelei who was twenty-four hours old the first time I ever saw her. Within an hour of my surgery, Georgia was being placed on my breast to feed and I was incredibly happy and in love with our babies. I was still feeding Georgia when Dr. S strode into the recovery room and introduced himself. He was the cardiologist in charge of Calvin and he had come in to give us his diagnosis. Truncus Arteriosus Type 3 he said gravely. Shane and I were under the impression that Tetralogy of Fallot was the more serious of the two so for a minute we were relieved until Dr. S explained that Truncus was far worse and Calvin's Type 3 was extemely rare. So rare in fact that in his seven years at Children's Hospital, Dr. S had never seen a case of Truncus Type 3 until our son. He explained Calvin would be having open heart surgery in a couple of days, that the surgery was necessary right away to prevent pulmonary hypertension and that without it, he would die. I was terrified. He told us he would talk to us later, once we were settled into our room and he left to give Shane and I some more time with Georgia.

On the way up to our room, we stopped at the NICU to see Calvin. He was huge compared to all the other premature and sick babies. It was hard to believe that my 6lb 13oz son was sick. I couldn't believe how still he lay as they poked his feet for blood. His breathing looked a little laboured and they explained he would be getting some help breathing once he was assessed. We went upstairs to my room and settled in to wait for the family. Shane's parents and his brother and his wife showed up a few hours later. There was the most incredible feeling of joy as we passed Georgia around, everyone taking turns holding her as Shane took them one by one downstairs to the NICU to meet Calvin. It was such a surreal day, so beautiful and full of love and wonder. I remember laying in my bed that night, holding Georgia and feeling like this had been one of the best days of my life. We had gone from a family of three to a family of five in mere minutes and the love I felt for my babies was so unbelievably strong. Shane and I decided in those quiet moments in our room later that night that we would not worry just now, that we would simply enjoy having our babies arrive safely, with no complications and that today was a day to celebrate their births and our love for each other and our children.

I leave you now with some pictures of our twins at birth and of Georgia throughout her year. It's been quite the year, nothing like I would have expected. Today I am at peace remembering that beautiful day one year ago, when my babies came into the world surrounded by love and joy. I will continue Calvin's story over the next couple of days...

Georgia Leigh Mayer born November 10, 2008. Pictures from Georgia's first year.

A Little History...Bear With Me

2009-11-09T21:09:00.000-08:00

One year ago today, Shane and I were in our rented home in Vancouver awaiting my scheduled c-section at Women and Children's Hospital for November 19th. I was anxious and feeling as if things were about to start going wrong. Four days prior, I had started swelling tremendously in my left leg and foot, so bad that I couldn't get a shoe on. That night, a Thursday, I had taken a taxi to Labour and Delivery to get checked out because I was terrified I was developing pre-eclampsia. Upon being checked over, the doctors had felt that even though my blood pressure was creeping up and that there was trace protein in my urine, that it was "normal" pregnancy swelling and I was sent home. So there we were. Sunday, November 9th and I was restless and anxious that there would be an impending disaster. I couldn't sleep. I remember getting out of bed at three am and pacing and then logging on to an expectant mother site I visited at the time and then climbing into bed about an hour and a half later, still anxious but exhausted. Little did I know that in five hours time, my water would break and my twins would be on their way. But first, a little history....

Shane and I have struggled to have children. When we married in 2003 it was with the intent to start a family immediately. I had been previously married with no children and am eight years older than my husband so at that time, my clock was definitely ticking. Almost immediately after Shane and I married and I went off the Depo shot, I became pregnant. Unfortunately, I had undergone gallbladder surgery not knowing I was pregnant at the time and had been on a plethora of medication from narcotic painkillers, general anesthetic, blood thinners to antispasmodic drugs. About a week after my surgery, I realized I was late and took a pregnancy test which turned out positive, but only faintly positive. A week later, I started bleeding and was devastated to learn I was miscarrying. Figuring the miscarriage was due to the surgery etc. we decided to wait a cycle and try again. In early February as soon as we started trying again, I became pregnant again only to miscarry within weeks of my positive test. Suspecting something was going on, my ob/gyn ordered genetic and immune testing done on both Shane and I. Shane's tests came back fine, however my tests showed I had high levels of antinuclear antibodies, anti cardiolipins and lupus anticoagulent. Not being sure what these test results meant, my doctor figured she would try me on baby aspirin for my next pregnancy and that all would be well. Four months later I was pregnant again only to begin miscarrying within two weeks of my positive test. By this time I was deeply depressed and desperate for answers so I begged my doctor to refer me to the recurrent pregnancy loss clinic at BC Women's Hospital. I waited four months for the appointment to roll around and Shane and I drove down to Vancouver in January hoping to find some answers. It was at this appointment and after reviewing my bloodwork that I was diagnosed with Antiphospholipid Antibody Syndrome, an autoimmune disorder that causes my body to make blood clots in the placenta which eventually kills the fetus. Treatment for this involves twice daily injections of blood thinner while pregnant, daily dose aspirin for the rest of my life and progesterone to support my uterine lining. It was also there at Women's Hospital that I discovered I was pregnant yet again. I was put on heparin immediately and our daughter Lorelei was born at thirty-six weeks by emergency c-section when I suffered a partial placental abruption. I was so relieved to finally have a child, and so emotionally traumatized by all we had gone through, I didn't think I would ever want to try for another child again. I was wrong. When Lorelei was eighteen months old, we decided we wanted to give her a sibling. Again, I got pregnant immediately after having my IUD removed and I had started the blood thinners at ovulation to make sure that if we did conceive, the pregnancy would be protected. I had no idea, no doubt in my mind that anything could go wrong. At eleven weeks, I went in for a routine prenatal appointment confident that everything was okay. I didn't even freak out when my doctor couldn't find the baby's heartbeat because I was sure it was just too early, however she was concerned enough to have me go over to the hospital for an ultrasound. During my ultrasound, it was confirmed that my baby had stopped growing at seven weeks four days. I was heartbroken and since I was showing no signs or symptoms of miscarriage, my doctor arranged a D&C and pathology to find out what had gone wrong. We were told that we could not under any circumstances try to conceive until we knew what had happened. Four months later, the results came back that our baby, a girl, was missing one of her sex chromosomes, a disorder known as Turner Syndrome. Had she lived, she would have been infertile, short statured and may have had some learning disabilities.

After being reassured that it wouldn't happen to us again, Shane and I started trying to conceive again to no avail. It had almost been a year since my last positive pregnancy test when I asked my doctor to prescribe me some Clomid, hoping that my ovaries just needed a jumpstart. I was prescribed the lowest possible dose and got pregnant the first time around. We were excited and scared, hoping beyond hope that everything would work out this time. Within weeks I was measuring big and was struggling to fit into my clothes so my doctor ordered a dating ultrasound to make sure my dates were correct and that I wasn't further along than we had originally thought. I was just over ten weeks pregnant when I went for the scan and I was terrified that I would hear the words that I had heard so many times..."Not viable". As I lay on the table, I was shaking and the tears were starting to form. The ultrasound tech was taking her time and when she finally put the wand down, I asked her, "Is there a heartbeat?" to which she replied "Yes, Would you like to see your baby?" Overjoyed I answered yes and was thrilled to see the little sac with the flashing heartbeat on the screen. Then moving the wand over to the other side of my belly, she said, "And here's the other one...congratulations, you're having twins!" I screamed "What!" so loud, I scared her and then I started crying so hard I couldn't catch my breath. Concerned, she asked me if they were happy tears to which I answered "Yes!". She printed out six pictures for me and still bawling, I stumbled out into the hallway, digging in my purse for my cellphone to call Shane who was at home with Lorelei. When I got out into the parking lot, I was bawling so hard Shane couldn't understand a word I was saying on the phone and finally yelled, "Are you alright?". "There's two babies, we're having twins..." I said. "Awesome!" was his reply. And so it started. Our journey to having two babies.

Our joy was to be short lived however as my doctor felt that because of my age, I needed to have special testing done in Vancouver for birth defects. I was dead set against having an amnio due to the risk of miscarriage so my doctor suggested we go for a nuchal translucency ultrasound. At the nuchal translucency, Twin A's nuchal fold measured 1.8mm and Twin B's 1.9 mm. Given my age and their measurements, the MFM doctor felt I should have an amnio to rule out Down Syndrome and Trisomys 13 and 18. Again we declined but agreed to have my pregnancy followed by Maternal Fetal Medicine in Vancouver which would mean a trip down for my fetal anatomy scan at twenty weeks and then more visits barring complications.

My pregnancy progressed fairly smoothly up to my twenty week scan, although I was incredibly uncomfortable already by the five month mark. I was huge and between heartburn and a sore back, I spent much of the beginning of summer napping and taking it easy. When Shane and I arrived in Vancouver for my fetal anatomy scan, we were nervous and excited. We were dying to find out the gender of our babies because both of us were hoping for at least one boy. I had already suspected I was carrying a boy, having had a quick peek at one of the twins bottoms during an ultrasound at sixteen weeks to check my cervical length. Sure enough, as the tech started the scan we were told that Twin B was a boy and A was a girl. We were overjoyed. As the scan progressed and I lay back watching the screen on the wall, I became concerned when I noticed that the tech was spending a fair bit of time examining the heart of one of the babies. When he left to get a doctor to check something and then suddenly five or six doctors were in the room with us, I knew something was wrong. At that point, I was sure the problem lay in Twin A, our girl. The MFM doctor explained that there was a problem with Twin B's heart and that we would be having a consultation with a pediatric cardiologist following the scan. Instantly I began to cry, suddenly terrified over what could be happening.

The pediatric cardiologist and a nurse met with Shane and I in a small conference room following the ultrasound. We were told our son had a large hole in his heart (ventricular septal defect), only one large artery coming off the valves and it didn't appear that he had a pulmonary artery. We were told it was very serious and that it could be possibly one of two conditions, Tetralogy of Fallot with Pulmonary Atresia or Truncus Arteriosus. We were booked in the following day for a cardiac echo and a consultation with a geneticist. As we called home to tell his parents we would be staying an extra day, I started sobbing, explaining to Shane's mom that there was a problem with our boy's heart. The next day I had an ultrasound with the pediatric cardiologist that lasted approximately two hours. Afterwards, we met with the geneticist and a social worker who explained that our son's defect was very complex and possibly related to a genetic disorder called Q22 deletion or DiGeorge Syndrome. We were told our twins would need to be born in Vancouver and that our son would need ICU care immediately, possibly prostaglandin to keep his patent ductus open and surgery. Depending on his exact diagnosis, he could possibly need a shunt put into his heart immediately upon birth and open heart surgery anywhere from birth to six months afterwards. It was at this point we were offered selective reduction. They explained that they could terminate our boy's life but not without risk to his healthy sister. Instantly our answer was no. We would not under any circumstance risk either of our babies' lives and that we would prepare to do whatever it took to give our son the best chance at life.

Upon returning home, and after receiving the report from Women's Hospital about my pregnancy, my doctor decided that she wanted me to live in Vancouver from twenty four weeks on in case I went into premature labour. She said that if I went into labour in the Okanagan that I couldn't be guaranteed a bed at Children's where my case was already being followed. At that point, Shane and I made the momentous decision to pack up our house and move to Vancouver to await the birth of our twins. Luckily, I found a place called Three Links House which provides housing for out of town families seeking medical treatment at Children's Hospital. We got a three bedroom top floor of a house, fully furnished with cable, utilities and phone included for thirty dollars a day. After writing several letters to the various charitable organizations in town, the Knights of Columbus and the Lions Club agreed to pay our rent for the entire time we were living in Vancouver which allowed us to keep our home here. Thank goodness for the kindness of those organizations. Which brings us to the night of November 9th, 2008 where I restlessly paced, convinced something horrible was about to happen.

Today as I recalled the events of last year and with the anticipation of Calvin and Georgia's birthday tomorrow, I went to the store to buy Calvin some flowers. As the woman walked over and asked if there was something she could help me with, I told her I needed something to bring to the cemetery and that it would have been my son's first birthday tomorrow. I started to cry. Desperately trying not to completely break down, I told her that I wanted a Happy Birthday balloon on a stick that I could put in the ground at his grave. I also wanted some flowers. The wonderful lady helped me pick out some white mums with some baby's breath, a small blue teddy bear and the owner hunted high and low for a balloon and something to put it on so that I could stick it into the ground. He came out with a Happy Birthday plastic plant stick in blue and a blue balloon which he tied to the stick with blue ribbon and then clipped on the little bear. The lady asked me what my son's name was and I told her Calvin. She wrapped up my flowers in green paper and tied multi coloured ribbons around the bouquet making it look cheerful and festive. They only charged me twelve dollars and I thanked them and wept as I paid. As I went to leave, the woman asked me if she could hug me and she came around the counter and took me in her arms and said, "God Bless you sweetie, and your little Calvin too...." It made me feel so good and so sad at the same time. I cried all the way to the cemetery and only stayed long enough to put Calvin's balloon and flowers down and to wish him a Happy Birthday. How I wish he was here as we celebrate Georgia's first birthday tomorrow....

H1N1

2009-11-07T17:30:00.000-08:00

Yup, I've got it. I'm sick as hell and it hit me out of nowhere. I woke up feeling fine yesterday but with a headache and by three o'clock yesterday afternoon my chest was burning and I started coughing. Today when I got up, I noticed my lungs were feeling horribly tight and I was having trouble breathing so I went to the walk in clinic. Within minutes I had a surgical mask slapped on my face and I was being ushered into the washroom to wash my hands and then disinfect them with isogel. We had been on the waiting list to get vaccinated because I'm in the high risk group being in my thirties and having asthma but the doctor's office never called. So I've got it, I'm pretty sure Shane and the kids have both had it, at least Lorelei because she had three days of fever and now she's got the cough. Nevertheless, the walk in clinic had me call the house and get Shane to bring the girls down to get them vaccinated right away. So they've had their shots, I'm currently on Tamiflu and antibiotics plus a couple of inhalers and we're still waiting to get our shots. It's horrible, I feel awful right now. I'm exhausted and hot and coughing like crazy. Get your vaccinations, seriously, you don't want this flu.

Fear Revisited

2009-11-05T23:10:00.000-08:00

As Calvin and Georgia's birthday approaches, I have thought to myself over the last couple of weeks that I should write his story. I know many of the babylost mamas who read my blog know the basics of what happened to my son but there is something inside me telling me to get it all out, to write it down. It seems though that as much as I want to write about my experience with Calvin, from his diagnosis during my pregnancy to his birth, surgery and death that there is something holding me back. I'm pretty sure that something is fear. I have spent so much of the last year trying to get over the pain, the horror and the guilt I have felt in regards to Calvin's death that I am afraid of revisiting those feelings and bringing up all the pain I've been trying desperately to keep at bay. Maybe I need to. Maybe putting down our experience will help me get out some of the anguish I've been holding inside. Maybe it will help me to come to terms with some of the anger and incredible hurt I am harbouring towards myself and my body's failure to put my child together properly. I'm really scared to go there again. I'm afraid it will be like ripping off the scab on a wound that's slowly healing and that the pain will be raw and fresh as the day he died. It's very unlike me to be at a loss for words like I have been lately. There is so much going on in my head right now, it's hard to find a place to start with things. I have so many emotions about my daughter's first birthday and the guilt I feel about celebrating her life and not his. I also feel guilt about shadowing her special milestones with my grief and don't want her life to be lived in the aftermath of Calvin's death. It's so unfair. To Georgia, to Calvin and to me, Shane and Lorelei. It's such a conundrum, the do I or don't I, should I or shouldn't I. I'm clearly messed up and not sure of myself right now.

Today as I read Lea's letter to Nicholas, I could completely relate to the pain she is going through as Nicholas's angel date approaches. I'm there too. Right beside her, just a few days behind and the feeling is one of dread. How do you mark the one year anniversary of your baby's death? How do you mark the day and fill it with meaning when it hurts so much to even think that it's been a year already? I've been so preoccupied with the thought of Calvin's angel day that I almost recoiled in horror the other day realizing my girl is turning one and I have no idea where the last year has gone. While Georgia holds a particularly special bit of my love because of the circumstances of her birth and what she has lived in as a result, I realized with guilt that much of her first year was spent with me in a complete haze. I'm sure the grief has blocked out alot of my memory from her early days but it's been my numbing out with medication to escape the pain of losing Calvin that's cost me much of the wonder of my beautiful girl's first year. I'm sad about it. Sad for her that I didn't take as many pictures as I should have, didn't write her milestones down in her babybook, didn't spend as much carefree happy time with her that Lorelei got in her first year. Much of Georgia's first months were spent on autopilot, getting up to feed her, change her, hold her and put her down to sleep, repeat. I don't know how I got out of bed some days to do it and to be honest, there were days I didn't want to. I wanted to stay in bed and cry and mourn and sleep and think about Calvin without any distractions but I couldn't. But at the same time, she was my reason for carrying on with things and I am so grateful to have her to fill my arms with her gorgeous baby chub while I was so horribly grief stricken. I want desperately to give her more of myself in the next year, to not be so preoccupied with thoughts of Calvin and his death but I need to honour my son as well. It's so difficult to find a balance when you lose one of two babies.

I may or may not post his story in the coming days. I'm finding it so hard just to acknowledge the year mark that I don't know if I can dredge up those feelings of loss as if they were fresh again. I want to do it for him, so that the women I've come to know and love can read his story and understand what happened to him. I just don't know if I have it in me to do it. I do have so much admiration for those of you that have written down your baby's stories, had the courage to post their pictures after they have passed away, and have reached out to help others in the process by doing sweet things like making momentos or keepsakes for other mothers suffering in loss. I'm so self centred in my own grief I haven't found it in me to do it, although I would like to do something for the other mothers very much. I would also like to find the courage to post Calvin's pictures, after surgery and as he lay dying in our arms. I am afraid to now knowing that some of the family is reading my blog and I don't want them to be hurt by his image. I'm just so damn stuck right now and it's making me even more upset that I can't seem to find my way about this milestone in my children's lives. I need a hug and a cup of courage and an ounce or two of strength to get through these coming days so that I may both celebrate the births of my twins one year ago and that I mark a year of mourning for the loss of my son.

Ignorance is Bliss or Is It?

2009-11-03T15:12:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking alot lately about information, medical advances, and new technology. I have wondered for awhile now what would have happened had we not known about Calvin's heart defect. I know for certain he probably would have died within his first year of life without surgical intervention but I wonder if it would have bought me more time with my son. Although I have a great deal of admiration for medical advances and knowledge, I wonder if there is such a thing as knowing too much. If we had wound the clock back eighty years and I was giving birth to the twins not knowing that our son's little heart wasn't formed properly, would that lack of knowledge have given me more unhurried time? Certainly children died more frequently than they do today, it was almost a given even eighty years ago that at least one child in the family wouldn't live past age five. Back then it was quietly accepted that sometimes mothers and children didn't survive even the birthing process, never mind being born with something as devastating as a malformed heart. I wonder if I lived in that day and age if I would have quietly accepted Calvin's death as one of those things that happens and been able to move on better with my life. I doubt if Calvin had been born fifty years ago that they would have even been able to diagnose his heart defect let alone operate on it when he was just three days old. I wonder what difference it would have made in my pregnancy, to have been blissfully unaware that my baby suffered from a life threatening condition. Maybe I would have been worried about whether or not I would have survived birthing the twins, or whether or not we would be able to feed and support two babies at once. I do know that I miss being unaware. I miss that blissful lack of knowledge that you have when you've never had problems with pregnancy or birth. I miss the innocence of believing that science can fix whatever problem is thrown it's way or that in this day and age, babies don't die anymore. I am all too aware of problems, complications, medical terminology, congenital conditions and statistics. I am all too aware of how it feels to hold your child in fear knowing that in a few hours, his chest will be cut open and that he might die. I am all too aware of the crushing pain that comes from holding your child as he turns blue, then black from cyanosis and from knowing that there is no prayer or hope or wish that can save him. I wish more than anything I lived in the state of blissful ignorance where I didn't always have in my mind the memory of my son on life support or in his tiny casket waiting to be buried.

If I could only have a little of that back, maybe I wouldn't have been so spent with trying, so crushed from all of our past losses that I would have been able to hold my chin up and say, "Let's try again". If I wasn't aware of all the problems being pregnant caused me and all the problems that could affect my unborn children than maybe I could have accepted burying one or two of them along the way to creating a family of epic proportion. Maybe, then again, maybe not. The fact is that I have been affected with too much knowledge, too many things that could happen, too much fear to try again and for that I am incredibly sad. Not only did I lose my son and the other babies I miscarried on the way to creating our family but I lost my hope. I lost the faith in my body to do it's job properly, I lost the naivety that comes with the belief that you get pregnant, you have a baby and you live happily ever after. It didn't happen that way for us and although I have learned in the last months of living without my son that we are far from being the only people that have lived through losing a child, it doesn't make it easier knowing that babies do die and that it does happen to other people too. It just shouldn't happen to anyone. The only real difference between now and eighty years ago is that it doesn't happen as often because they do have the tools and the knowledge to diagnose and cure. Maybe because of that sense of security, we've bubbled ourselves into believing that we are safe from something that was at one point common. Maybe it's the fear of talking about what really does happen sometimes that keeps us blissfully unawares until it happens to us. More than anything, I wish I was still wrapped in that bubble safe in the belief that it wouldn't happen to me.

Frozen

2009-10-28T07:07:00.000-07:00

Calvin's birthday and angel day are coming fast. I don't know how to feel about these days, other than the looming sense of dread that's been creeping over me this past month. Part of me is incredulous that I have survived the death of my child for OH MY GOD, a year already. How does that happen? It's almost a sense of shame that my life continued when his did not. These past eleven months have been at the least, defining. At the apex of my grief, and in the aftermath of my son's death, I would say things have become catastrophic. Our lives have fallen completely apart. Neither Shane nor I know where to begin in assembling our new lives since losing Calvin. Any last vestige of normal has fallen away and the new uncomfortable is the coat I now wear. I don't know how to do it. I don't think we've been coping well. I'm still breathing and I'm still able to love and look after the girls but so much has changed that I don't know myself or Shane these days.

I used to be one of those passionate movie watchers that would get so into the movie I was watching that I would holler at the screen. I could see ahead to where the plot was taking us and I often felt a sense of dread knowing the main character was doing something or not doing something that was going to keep him out of danger. It's almost as if I have stepped outside myself and am watching my life play out in front of me. I can see the catastrophe looming all around us, evidence of that is everywhere but it's like my feet are frozen in a pond of ankle deep water. I feel helpless to move, to change, to step out from beneath the darkness. Why? Because I don't know this life. Because I don't know how to cope, to get on with things, to step out of my feelings and this new sense of "normal" to live despite of the fact that my son has died. My life is being created all over again and I don't like it. I don't like the feeling of sadness in my heart all the time. I don't like knowing that I held my son and watched him die and was helpless to do anything about it. I don't like knowing that our family is forever incomplete now that he is gone. I don't like the things that have happened to us while we are trying to work through this mess of feelings and this new horrible beginning to our lives. My marriage has suffered terribly. My children have suffered from having a mother who isn't one hundred percent with them anymore. My husband has suffered, lashing out in unhealthy ways, angry at what has happened to us. We have slowly watched things around us fall apart. I don't know if it's the way it's supposed to be or not. My life stopped being the same the moment Calvin took his last breath, so maybe all the things that have happened is part of some sort of shedding, layer by layer I watch as everything in my life falls apart. I just don't know what to do about it. Do I pick up the pieces and try and patch them together and try to repair all that's been damaged in the last eleven months? Or do I accept that it's futile to want any semblance of the life I had before my son back? Is this where we start over again, building hope, building relationships with our children, building our marriage and family relationships over? I'm so tired of feeling suspended in my own life, watching everything around me fall apart. I hate to think this is where my life has come to and that I have to accept it. I want more and better and happier out of my life than I've had in this shitty eleven months. There's got to be more than this feeling of helpless empty....

Over the Top

2009-10-23T23:55:00.000-07:00

I was given an "Over The Top" award from Lea at Nicholas's Touch.

Thank you for the recognition. I am supposed to answer the following 35 questions, with just one word....not always possible. ;)

1. Where is your cell phone? Couch

2. Your hair? Ponytail

3. Your mother? Hospital

4. Your father? Heaven

5. Your favorite food? chocolate

6. Your dream last night? sexy

7. Your favorite drink? milk

8. Your dream/goal? fundraising

9. What room are you in? bedroom

10. Your hobby? shopping

11. Your fear? No heaven

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Vancouver

13. Where were you last night? Kelowna

14. Something that you aren't? thin :(

15. Muffins? cranberry orange

16. Wish list item? house

17. Where did you grow up? Ontario

18. Last thing you did? movie

19. What are you wearing? pyjamas

20. Your TV? news

21. Your pets? dead

22. Friends? loyal

23. Your life? unfulfilled

24. Your mood? anxious

25. Missing someone? Calvin

26. Vehicle? Caravan

27. Something you’re not wearing? Underwear

28. Your favorite store? Children's Place

29. Your favorite color? pink

30. When was the last time you laughed? tonight

31. Last time you cried? Monday

32. Your best friend? busy

33. One place that I go to over and over? In-laws

34. One person who emails me regularly? Jesse

35. Favorite place to eat? Morton's

Now, as in the rules, I must select five other bloggers:

Akul's Mommy at http://aajaakul.blogspot.com/

Peyton's Mommy at Once a Mother at http://onceamother.blogspot.com/

Lindsay at La la Land http://lindsaylala.blogspot.com/

Jesse at Truncus Arteriosus http://truncusarteriosus.blogspot.com/

Jay at Opus Angara http://opusangara.blogspot.com/

How Do I Offend Thee, Let Me Count the Ways

2009-10-21T22:59:00.000-07:00

My blog has been pissing people off. Twice now, since beginning it, I have offended people with remarks about things that have happened in the past or how I have felt about certain situations. I feel terrible about it. When I started my blog back in March, it was basically just a way for me to vomit out some of the horrible feelings of grief I was experiencing after Calvin's death. People only want to hear so much about the same topic over and over, especially if it's a sad one. I was strangling in my feelings and after my husband told me that constantly talking about grief was making him depressed, I stopped and started here. It was my intention at the time to keep my blog from family and close friends so that I didn't feel I had to censor my thoughts and feelings. I wanted to purge in honesty.

Although I don't feel I have to censor my thoughts or feelings on here, there is that little voice in the back of my head now telling me to sugarcoat things. I don't want to hurt anyone intentionally but I am also an extremely opinionated, strong willed woman. If I feel especially passionate about a topic or situation, I am going to voice my feelings. I have come to learn especially in the seven years that Shane and I have been together, that my feelings and opinions are not always appreciated. If there is one thing I can say of myself with pride is that I am honest about the way I feel, about the things I believe in and I don't pretend to agree with things to keep the peace. It's caused me some issues for sure, mainly with the people I am closest with unfortunately. I do regret sometimes the way I speak frankly and without mincing words when I do hurt the people I care about, but in order to be true to myself and to my blog, I feel I must continue to speak my mind and my feelings without the added worry of who I am going to upset with what I post about. There have been several things that I have wanted to blog about but that I have refrained from posting about because I know they will cause discord in my family. In those situations, it's not the feeling of having to censor myself for fear of backlash, it's knowing that some things are best left unsaid. Instead I rant to a friend or another family member until I feel relieved of some of the stress and anger some situations have left me with, knowing my family relationships will be better in the long run for not making a public spectacle of my feelings.

There are also things I have not blogged about because of privacy issues, those fine lines that are drawn between wanting to share and not wanting people to know every sordid detail of whatever drama I may be going through at the time. I would however, like to ask that if anyone finds what I post to be offensive, to realize that they are simply the feelings and opinions of one person. I accept that not everyone will agree with the way I see the world at times, but if you find yourself offended or pissed off by a topic I have chosen to write about, contact me. Leave me a comment asking me to get ahold of you, if you are family and I have offended you please call me or if you so choose to do so, stop reading my blog. Not having an audience to my feelings won't bother me, I write my words for me and not to appease anyone else. I just want to be understood that when I write about something, I am not writing about you in particular, I am writing about me and how I felt in a situation and how that situation relates to the grief I am dealing with today. To someone on the outside who can't understand why I am writing about things that may have happened five or twenty five years ago, please realize there is relevancy and I am not doing it to be a bitch. I'm not made that way even if I do come off sounding harsh or abrupt about certain things.

My goal in creating my blog was to find a way to a healing peace as I muddle through the darkness of grief and it remains my goal to this day. I am in no way seeking sympathy or vengeance, merely searching for understanding within myself and my world. This is the most difficult journey I have experienced in my lifetime and I do hope that by being open about my feelings and thoughts during my time of mourning that if people are reading my blog that they understand just how difficult and painful this past year of my life has been. This is the way I put my voice to the words that I cannot bear to push past my lips into the open air, a way to let the pain pour out through my fingertips and into a place other than inside myself. Please, cut me a little slack and know that hurting some of you is the very last thing I want to do.

I Want Mommy

2009-10-21T00:50:00.001-07:00

It's ten minutes to one and I am far from crawling into bed at this point. My oldest, Lorelei started to complain the day before yesterday that her tummy hurt. I didn't think too much of it at the time because lately she's been having issues with poop. She doesn't want to go and has been holding it as long as humanly possible until she's either doubled over in pain or it's too late to make it to the toilet. Having carried her by the armpits to the bathroom last week, felt pens clutched in each hand and a huge lump of turd in her Hello Kitty undies, I naturally assumed it was yet again another poop issue. After spending all day yesterday lying on the couch and refusing all forms of food, even her favorites, I began to suspect that she really was indeed sick. Although she was down in our room at two thirty in the morning this morning crying that she wasn't feeling well and after yet another day spent lying on the couch, because she actually ate some dinner tonight, I thought she was feeling better. I was wrong. At eleven tonight, as I was struggling to get Georgia down to sleep after an early poop disrupted her afternoon nap routine, Lorelei woke and began crying. Shane went upstairs to check her only to come flying downstairs, child in arms looking frantically for our thermometre. She was hot. Steamy hot. I knew instantly before the thermometre read 39 degrees that she had a fever. And instantly, the words came out. "I want Mommy". For some reason, my headstrong child who normally prefers her father's company to mine wants me and only me when she's sick. It's sweet and bothersome at the same time. I love to take care of her, to mommy my girl. I love to nurture her by giving her juice and stroking her hot, sweaty curls and murmuring words of love into her ear as she snuggles into my lap. I hate the fact that my child gets me sick everytime she gets something.

For some reason, Shane can fight off whatever bugs he is exposed to never really getting sick, sick. But for me, I get sneezed on and I'm out of commission for the next ten days. My fellow co-workers used to joke that they would know how serious the colds going around were dependant as to how much time I would either be off or in the hospital. I've never had a very good immune system it would seem, or maybe it's too good. Too good at fighting my own tissues and pregnancies to bother with fighting off germs. So here I am, wondering if we've contracted H1N1 and trying not to be paranoid about it. I can't be sick right now because I need to look after Lorelei and Georgia and we can't afford Shane to take any time off work right now. But I'm wondering if in forty-eight hours I will be bedbound with a fever of 105 degrees like the last time I got sick. Sigh....It's nice to be wanted as Mommy, not so nice to be given a cold or flu. I'm starting to think I should just stock up on Tamiflu and the seasonal and H1N1 vaccines and get the whole family done at one time. I injected myself long enough during my pregnancies, how hard can it be to inject into a muscle instead of fat? And as for injecting others, I owe Shane a stab with the needle after he thought he'd learn how to inject me and he stabbed me with the needle only to pull it out in horror without giving me the medication....

Light a Candle

2009-10-15T15:22:00.001-07:00

Calvin's candle, picture, and heart within a heart given to us by the spiritual care team of the ICU. I said a prayer and thought of all of our angels while I lit his candles. Hugs to the angel mommys.

Today, October 15th, is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. Please light a candle at 7:00pm and take time to remember our lost babies.

A thousand thank yous to Franchesca for making Calvin's name collage. Franchesca devotes much of her time to creating these collages for parents who have lost their precious babies. It's a beautiful and thoughtful way to honour our children.

It's a Boy

2009-10-14T12:49:00.000-07:00

Shane's sister Susan had her baby yesterday. Elijah Jon was born after an easy three hour labour and weighed in at 7lbs 1oz. I am happy for Susan. However timing is everything and it just figures that her brand new boy would be born on the day our son's grave marker was being installed. Yes, Calvin's marker is in again. I haven't gone over to see it yet but Shane did and by first glance, everything looks good. It's a relief. As for my husband, Shane didn't take the news as well as I had hoped. Maybe things would have been a little different had the two of us not been so full of anxiety about Calvin's marker being installed the next day that neither of us slept Monday night. Maybe if we hadn't had our first real conversation about our son in a long time it would have been easier for him. Shane has bottled up his feelings about Calvin for so long now that the conversation literally took my breath away. I cried. Alot actually. Shane misses our son so much and has put on his "I'm fine, We're fine, Everything's fine" face for so long now that it was like a dam had burst. He's so hurt and in so much pain over losing our son and about losing our "lives" before loss. He acknowledged that he never feels normal anymore, that he feels so alone in the loss that he has done some horrible hurtful things, said some things he normally would never say and buried himself in escapes. He's utterly sad over the fact that Georgia's life will always be surrounded by a touch of darkness and that all the important things in her life will be blemished with Calvin's loss.

After receiving the call that Elijah had been born, Shane crawled back into bed and asked me to come and hold him. I put my arms around him and asked him if he was alright to which he answered no. I understand him completely. When we had been trying unsuccessfully for a year to have a baby and I kept miscarrying, Susan got pregnant with her first child. She had no problems whatsoever. I found it painful to be around her, couldn't bring myself to share in her joy and started avoiding family functions. At one point Greg, Shane and Susan's brother, freaked out on us and started screaming at us that we were selfish, why couldn't we be happy for her? I started crying and told Greg at the time that we weren't unhappy for her, we were unhappy for us and that all the things she had reminded us of what we had been trying so desperately for. I don't think the family can understand that. All they see is us being upset and get angry. I know Shane won't be saying anything about his hurt to anyone in the family this time and I ache for him. Although I don't feel devastated by Susan having a boy because I had been expecting it all along, I am disappointed that he came on the day our son's marker was being installed. It seemed like a kick in the teeth. Susan gets a healthy son, we get a marker for our dead son. It's grief, it's complicated and it sucks.

Snapshots of Love

2009-10-12T21:21:00.000-07:00

Lorelei on her way to see the Wiggles with dad at the Hope Slide viewpoint. I love this picture, she looks so tiny against the landscape.

Feeding the chipmunks at the Hope Slide.

Sitting under the big carved bear at Manning Park Lodge.

Lorelei, Georgia and Daddy snuggling after a terrific Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma and Papa's.

Little Miss Georgia Leigh enjoying her baby MumMum biscuits.

It's been awhile since I posted any pics of the girls and talked of what they've been up to so I thought I would share pictures from our Thanksgiving weekend dinner. This weekend has been good. Shane and Lorelei had a fantastic time at the Wiggles. The concert started with them coming out in the Big Red Car singing the song of the same name and Lorelei jumped up and was singing and dancing along. Shane said that when Sam Wiggle came through the crowd and missed Lorelei's hand as he was giving High Five's, she chased him up twenty rows trying to get his attention much to Shane's dismay....She thought nothing of running off to meet a real live Wiggle in a crowd of ten thousand people, but Shane just about had heart failure....LOL. Anyhow, a good time was had by both father and daughter and Sam Wiggle survived to do another concert.

Our Thanksgiving dinner was done on Sunday, up at Shane's parents home. His mom is still in Regina waiting for Susan's baby to come so his dad invited the rest of the family up for dinner. He put on an impressive feast of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, carrots, turnips, candied yams, broccoli salad and dinner buns. We were so stuffed afterwards, we almost didn't get to the apple crisp I made for dessert from apples off the tree in our backyard. It was a beautifully relaxing evening with the family and Georgia ate more food in one sitting than she ever has before. It's been a struggle not to nap the day away today after such a great feast last night. Too bad Mama Mayer and Susie, Dana and the kids weren't there to share in it.

As for me, I've enjoyed the small bit of mommy/baby time I had with Georgia while Shane and Lorelei were in Vancouver. However I am struggling now with the thoughts of Calvin and Georgia's upcoming birthday on November 10. I asked Shane if he thought that I should put Happy Birthday Georgia and Calvin on the cake and neither of us knows what to do. I suggested putting just Happy Birthday Georgia on her birthday cake and then getting another smaller cake that said Remembering Calvin but I'm just not sure how I feel about it. I don't want to pretend my son never existed and it would be his birthday too, but on the other hand, I don't want Georgia to grow up in the shadow of her brother's death. I'm torn as to what to do. I already know her first birthday will be bittersweet for me as we celebrate the day she was born, but that day was such a beautiful day for us because Calvin was born too. We went from a family of three to a family of five. How do we acknowledge her twin on their birthday? What is the right and proper thing to do in a case like this? How do we acknowledge our son even though he is no longer here with us? Some suggestions or input would be greatly appreciated on this one as we are both confused as to what to do.

A Visit From Calvin

2009-10-09T09:35:00.000-07:00

Months ago, I blogged about dreaming of my friend John after he died, how I was sure it wasn't so much of a dream but a visit. I'm sure that sometimes when we are grieving the loss of someone we love, the mind may give us dreams to comfort us, to make the pain a little less intense. I have been waiting for months now to dream of my son and upon awakening from this dream, I am absolutely sure I was with him. It was so real, so vivid I could feel him...

I dreamt I was an old woman and I had died and I was standing in Heaven surrounded by bright light. Suddenly, a beautiful man around the age of thirty was standing before me. He had the most beautiful blue eyes, handsome face, and blonde curly hair. I knew without being told that it was Calvin. I'm crying tears of joy and love and as we embrace, I realize that I am no longer old but I too have been transformed to age thirty and I look better than I ever have looked in my lifetime. He calls me Mom and is holding me and I am weeping with love and joy and sorrow all at once. As I look into his face, I tell him how much I have loved him, how I have spent all of my life missing him and how sad I am that I never got to see him grow up. I am suddenly aware of a presence to my left and instantly I am aware that I am standing in the presence of God. He is huge, and serene looking and kind and wordlessly he takes me left hand and Calvin's right hand. I close my eyes and see my life being replayed. Every moment. Only Calvin is there in all of them, as a baby, playing with Georgia as a toddler, fighting with his sisters as a ten year old, graduating high school beside Georgia, dancing with his sisters at their weddings, crying over the casket of his mother at her funeral. It was my life, every minute, every memory, every special occassion replayed with my son there through all of it. It was the most beautiful gift. We must have been standing there forever but in Heaven it was only a few minutes. God had given me the gift of watching my son grow up with us, with his father and me and Lorelei and Georgia, just as he would have if he had come home from the hospital. Here I was now, standing with my son and God in this glorious light, hand in hand with them both, feeling the warmth of love like waves lapping over me. Tears of gratitude streaming down my face, God spoke to me and told me to enter Heaven and to enjoy eternity with all of those I have loved in my lifetime who were now waiting for me. He told me that all of my loved ones had been restored in body and health and although I wouldn't normally recognize them that I would know them instantly. As I turned to look towards the gates God was gone, but my son still held my hand. I looked at Calvin and told him I've loved you my whole life and he replied, I know mom, I was there. My dream ended soon after but I awoke feeling the warmth I had felt in my dream and there was a feeling of peace in my heart. I think that this was too vivid, too real to have been merely a dream. Maybe it was a hint from God that we don't really miss watching our children grow up, that when we get to Heaven it is a precious gift given to us who have suffered and felt the deep pain of loss here on earth. That the replay of our lifetimes with the children we have lost is only the beginning of spending eternity with those we have loved the most here on earth. I'd like to believe that I will get my chance to see all of that, to feel every emotion, to catch up on every hug, kiss, cuddle and I love you I am missing with him now. It would be the greatest ending of all.....

Always on My Mind

2009-10-08T11:32:00.000-07:00

I can't stop thinking about Calvin these last few days. I mean while I think of him everyday, lately I've been thinking about him all day, everyday. Especially when I lay down to go to sleep at night and the house is quiet and dark. That lump has come back, you know, the one that sits in the back of your throat that chokes you into tears whenever someone brings up the thing that's been on your mind? Maybe it's the weather, the time of year that Calvin was born and died, maybe it's because I can't believe it's coming up on a year already and my life has been basically at a standstill for that long. Maybe it's because no one mentions him much anymore. I'm hurting, and I'm mad at my family for not caring about me or about Calvin.

My last conversation with my grandmother hurt me so much I have been unable to talk about it. Who gets angry at a ninety year old woman? I feel bad for the thoughts I've had about her, about wanting to tell her to fuck right off because she's a miserable old bitter woman who yells at me about things that happened twenty years ago but tells me to stop living in the past because everytime we talk, all I talk about is "my dead son". I have long believed that my relationship with my grandmother is abusive, she has said some of the most hurtful things ever said to me in my life. I have tried to explain to people what she is like but I've been told over and over again that "Margaret, she's just an old lady, she doesn't mean to hurt you." People don't understand that she has been this way my entire life, long before she became a ninety year old woman. I feel like an infant sometimes when I am dealing with her, a short 4"10" tyrant who has reduced me to tears more often than I care to remember while I have stood there silently crying in anger and frustration. Part of my guilty concience won't let me yell back at her, to tell her to shut up, because not only is she old, but she is my mother's primary caregiver. She is also the only member of my mother's family who communicates with me. I am torn between hanging onto the connection and turning and walking away forever.

So here I am, a thirty-eight year old child being yelled at for being a little shit when I was thirteen years old but in the same breath being asked "When are you going to get over that?" , when talking about my son. I feel so utterly alone sometimes, with no family of my own to rely on for emotional support. Having my husband's family has been a blessing in alot of ways but there is always the feeling of not being "real" family. Truthfully I am still angry at my family for not coming to Calvin's funeral, for not taking time out of their busy lives to support me while I am living through the hardest, most painful loss of my life. So who do I talk to? I have no mother's lap to crawl into. I have no one left on my father's side. My aunt and uncle on my mother's side have had nothing to do with me for the last six years after my cousin, their darling daughter, came to live with me and I kicked her out after she brought cocaine into my house. I miss my son. Missing him is worse with this terrible feeling of disconnect I have with my blood relations. If there is anything in life I could wish for, it would be to have strong family support. Love. Genuine caring about each other. Not a family who gets together once in a blue moon in our best clothes and politely sits around a dinner table making small talk. I want a family that would hug me, rush to be by my side during my darkest hour, rejoice with me during happy times, and who actually know who I am. I have been told to create that family, the one I long for, with my husband and children. While it is something I aspire to, I also need and crave motherly attention of my own. Not just to be the one who is giving it all the time.

I need someone in my life I can talk to. I need someone who can understand how heartbreaking it has been for me not only to lose my son, but to also watch my husband turn into someone I'm not sure I know sometimes because of his own grief. As Calvin's year approaches I am finding myself deeply troubled and incredibly lonely. I can't stop thinking about my son and the moments I held him, loving him and wishing for more time. I can't stop thinking about the day he died as I quietly held him in my arms, praying for a miracle. I can't stop thinking about how my life hasn't felt the same, how my marriage feels empty at times, how sometimes the only deep bonds I feel are with my daughters. I think I would give anything in this world right now for someone who loves me to open up their arms and just let me cry instead of keeping it all bottled up inside. Oh God I miss my son. I miss my life before grief. I miss my mother. I wish I could have everything back.

Thanksgiving, Cool Weather and the Wiggles....

2009-10-06T12:40:00.001-07:00

I'm sure many of you have think I've gone completely nutso and are wondering what's up with the title of my post. Just a bit of an update to let you all in on what's been happening lately.

Well our weather has cooled off signifigantly, and horror of horrors, I put the furnace on last week. I usually try to hold out until Halloween has passed but this year I just couldn't do it. We've gone from having the air conditioning on two weeks ago to so chilly that I've dragged out the winter pyjamas and bedding. Sometime last week, I went to get Georgia up in the morning and the poor thing was so chilly, it took a warm bottle and an hour of snuggling with mama under a heavy blanket to warm her up and with that I decided that having a cold baby was just not worth saving the extra money by keeping the heat off. So on went the furnace and I've been cozy and not so worried about my sleep-moving baby who never manages to sleep the night through in one spot.

As my Canadian friends will know, but maybe not my American friends, this upcoming weekend is our Thanksgiving. Shane's mother is currently in Regina, helping out Susan, Shane's sister, who's new baby is due tomorrow. As Susan has a history of being overdue, who knows how long Mama Mayer will be out there. I had already figured that if I wanted a traditional turkey dinner, I would be cooking it myself. Usually we have the big dinners at Shane's parent's house, his dad does all the big meal cooking and makes the best stuffing I have ever eaten in my life....mmm. So, after mentioning to Shane that maybe we would cook our own dinner, he took the initiative to invite his dad, his brother Greg and wife Trisha who is also expecting, and possibly Trisha's grandpa Herb. So, we will have a full house for Thanksgiving dinner and I am really looking forward to it. Not looking forward to the dishes afterwards mind you, but having the company will be well worth the effort.

This weekend is going to be a busy one for sure with not only our Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday, but we have a wedding on Saturday to go to and Shane and Lorelei are taking a daddy/daughter trip to Vancouver on Friday to see the Wiggles. Lorelei is just crazy about them and months ago, when I found out they were coming to Canada, I bought them tickets to see the show. I will stay home with Georgia for a little mommy time with my baby and Lorelei will get the thrill of her life singing and dancing to the Wiggles with her daddy. It's going to be a busy, busy weekend and I'm sure we will all have a wonderful time.

An update on Calvin's marker....Rick from the funeral home called me Friday. Calvin's marker has been placed on urgent status, the CEO from the company that manufactures them felt horrible at not only our long wait but the fact that Calvin's name had been mispelled. I have been guaranteed that it will be here and installed by next Wednesday. Rick had already arranged with the cemetery caretaker that even if Calvin's marker comes in after they have stopped installing for winter, that it will be put in regardless. It's been a huge relief because it's been such a worry for me. I can't wait to see it or to plant the tulip bulbs that Jesse has sent me from Wisconsin behind his marker. I'm not planting them all mind you, but I figured I'd save two bulbs and plant them behind the marker so that in the spring, my son will have flowers. Thank you Jesse, for being such a thoughtful, caring friend.

And just to wrap things up, my fellow blogger Stephanie at the NieNie Dialogues is going to be on Oprah today or tomorrow. Stephanie, a devout Mormon, survived a terrible plane crash last year with her husband. They both suffered terrible burns, Stephanie receiving the worst of it. Go to her blog and check out the details of her visit with Oprah and be sure to tune in to hear her inspiring story of faith, courage and love.
http://nieniedialogues.blogspot.com/

Homebound

2009-09-28T15:04:00.000-07:00

Aunt Flo has made her monthly visit. She is my most despised visitor as of late, since having the twins she seems to stay longer and longer each time she comes. Last month she was here for sixteen days and it's gotten so bad that I can no longer leave the house on the first couple of days she is here. I'm in agony. My cramps are so horrendous that my meds are no longer doing their job. A visit with my gynecologist last month had her suggest uterine ablation, that is burning of the lining in my uterus. I will hardly have periods if I get it done, but also never be able to carry a baby again. I'm holding out. Why, I don't know at this point as Shane and I cannot afford IVF right now and the likelihood of me carrying another child is not very high. But I'm afraid of the permanence of destroying my lining. Afraid of having my insides scorched and having to pass black, burned tissue. I'm afraid that if the time comes when we can afford the IVF, that I won't be able to because I've made my uterus uninhabitable. So I'm suffering, loudly at that. Poor Shane was roused from bed at five o'clock this morning so that I could change the sheets and start a load of laundry that needed washing immediately. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I am thinking of returning to work but know that no employer in his right mind is going to give me the first two to three days of my period off every month. I don't see any other way though at this point. Not only are the cramps intolerable but my flow is so heavy that no feminine hygiene product protects me for more than an hour at a time. I'm at a loss for what to do. I can't handle this much longer but I don't want to give up the possibility of ever having a child again.

For the Mamas

2009-09-27T01:02:00.000-07:00

I've wanted to post for some time now on how your support and the things you do to remember my son and give me comfort mean to me. Some days when I am feeling down, all it takes to cheer me up, give me comfort, give me strength, are a few words on my blog, left with love from another mother who has lost her child. Some days when I am feeling that no one in the world understands me I will read a post on someone's blog that says exactly what is in my heart. Some days when I feel that no one thinks of me or remembers my son, I get a sweet surprise from someone who has thought of us and taken the time to acknowledge us. I have been down lately. I have been struggling with Calvin's upcoming year, not only his birthday, but his death day six days later. I am having a hard time finding a way to honour Calvin on the day of his birth, without making it a sad time for Georgia. I feel guilty and sad and lonely and confused about what to do for her, to honour her sweet life while remembering her brother's place in our family also. I've been consumed with cleaning, trying not to think about things, make things more complicated while these days come closer and closer. I am filled with sadness over Calvin's marker and the thought that it might not be installed for his birthday or his death day. I am also trying to stay focused on feeling happiness for my sisters in law who are both pregnant and have every right to be happy and joyful about their babies. Some days it's difficult. Not because I begrudge them their children or joy, but because my own road to family has been so bumpy. Because although I have had two daughters and a son, my life feels incomplete without Calvin here. I envy them for not knowing the pain and fear of carrying a child with a serious congenital heart defect, for being able to embrace pregnancy and all the joys of dreaming of who that child will be without being shadowed by past losses and heartache. Both of my pregnancies were filled with worry, endless checkups and monitoring. I wish I had had the experience of having a child without fear, just knowing the anticipation of things to come. I am also trying very hard to be supportive for my blog friends who are expecting. I know they do carry some of the fear I had with me when I was pregnant and I wish I could help them believe that things will be okay for them. I believe it with all my heart. More than anything, I wish I could have an hour with each of you, to thank you for your words, the kindness and love you've shown me through these difficult months, for not judging me when my words come out sounding like I should be locked away in some insane asylum forever. I want to thank Lea and Bree for remembering Calvin on their blogs, for honouring his life. It means so very much to me to have him acknowledged as part of me, part of my family. I want to also thank Jesse for selflessly sharing herself and her son Oliver with me. They have come to be people I love dearly and think about daily. I don't know what I would do without the support and kindness you all have given me in your own ways. Just wanted to say you are terrific women, each and every one of you. None of us deserved to have these things happen to us and I wish to God it hadn't. I do think of you all, and your sweet babes very much although I haven't figured out a way to show it here. Thanks for being my light in the dark...and for being here as I stumble through surviving the most painful loss in my life. I love you all.

Correcting Chaos

2009-09-23T00:52:00.000-07:00

My life has been in a virtual shambles since Calvin died last November. I stopped cooking for months and we lived on either the kindness of family having us for dinner or takeout for a long time. Getting back into cooking was difficult for me at first, it came in fits and starts. I'd be good for a week and then lapse again into complacency and not cook for another month. I really noticed how messed up my life was at the end of January when I realized that I had been walking around the wrapping paper from Christmas morning for over a month and that my Christmas tree which had long since died had dropped almost all it's needles on my livingroom floor. We hadn't even unpacked from moving home from Vancouver by the end of January and I had been dodging calls from our kindly retired minister who had performed Calvin's funeral service, because I was ashamed at my lack of motivation or concentration long enough to get my house cleaned. It's been on and off like that for me for months now, since losing our son and it's just been in the last couple of months that I have started cooking again full time.

When we decided to move Georgia out of our bedroom a few months ago, we had to move Lorelei upstairs to her new bedroom so that Georgia could have her old room. We had made Lorelei's room as comfy and pretty as possible with all her things and her Aunt Susie and Uncle Dana had done an amazing job painting and putting up pretty wallpaper for her in anticipation of her move to her big girl bedroom. So both Lorelei and Georgia had pretty, clean, organized bedrooms. A fresh start for both girls. I don't know why I didn't give Shane and I the same fresh start. We've been living in clutter and chaos in our room and the remainder of the unseen parts of the house for almost a year now. This past week I decided I have had enough and set about to correct the chaos. I started in our laundry room which ironically still had boxes of stuff from our move home from Vancouver. It took me three days to clean it, organize it, get rid of the stuff that shouldn't be in there and do all the laundry that has been sitting in the hamper for months now. Yesterday I started on our bedroom. It's been a huge job for me, cleaning out our closet was difficult, not because of the mess, but because of the disorganization of memories collected there. Parts of Calvin's life lay all askew here and there, papers, birth and death certificates, clothing, memories. For the first time in twenty years, I took everything out of my hope chests and went through it all, getting rid of stuff I have lugged around for most of my life that had no meaning. Then I went upstairs and lugged down the suitcase containing Calvin's clothing and unpacked it. Touching each thing of his, remembering each special gift or outfit purchased with love for him, smelling the clothes he wore the day he died. I found myself crying, sitting alone on the laundryroom floor, packing away all of his things, putting my memories in one tidy place. All my hopes and dreams for my son now lay in that chest and although it hurt so much to go through all those memories and things, I feel a sense of accomplishment at having organized it all into one place. It's a feeling I haven't felt in a long time. In fact it felt so good I have been focusing on making our home feel homey once again, the thoughts of nesting down for the winter in comfort appeals to me right now as I know the memories and pain of last November lay just around the corner. This time when they come, I will be ready to face them and my world without everything falling apart again.

Waiting Again

2009-09-18T00:22:00.000-07:00

The funeral director was apalled when he heard that Calvin's name had been spelled incorrectly on his marker and assured us that "This never happens, it's a terrible fluke," like it would make us feel any better. Our son had a 90% chance of survival following his open heart surgery too, his death was also a "fluke". We are now waiting again for Calvin's marker to be replaced. I was told repeatedly that they could not possibly leave the marker there until his new one came, no no no, it must be sent back immediately. So my son lays in an unmarked grave yet again and we are back to waiting. Six weeks we were assured. "It better be here in six weeks, my son is not spending another winter without a marker on his grave", Shane told Rick. I'm hoping beyond hope it's here in time for installation. However, the family ceremony and balloon release that I had planned for a nice, warm, sunny day has been postponed, maybe until next spring. Devastated? Yes, again and again. Heartbroken for my beautiful, perfect son who lies in the ground in an unmarked grave like someone who's life was not worth acknowledging. Heartbroken for my husband who cannot bring himself to visit Calvin until the marker is installed and angry at the careless jerk who didn't check his work or maybe thought he could sneak his mistake past us. Now, instead of nice green grass and fresh flowers at Calvin's marker, I am anticipating dry, dead, brown grass and silk flowers for the winter. I'm bitter. I feel that if shit is going to go wrong, then it always seems to go wrong for Shane and I. Maybe I need an exorcism. Bah......

Devastated Yet Again

2009-09-11T20:32:00.000-07:00

Today I called the funeral home to find out just what has been going on with Calvin's grave marker. I had been told that the delivery date was scheduled for August 17th and that it should be installed in the next couple of weeks following. As of yesterday it was still not there and we have waited almost four months since ordering it. Our funeral director made some calls and found that Calvin's marker was at the cemetery but not yet installed and could not give me a reason why. Twenty minutes later, the secretary called to let me know that they had installed it after speaking with Rick and that it was now there. Lorelei and I anxiously waited for Shane to get home to watch Georgia and she and I planned to go have a look at it and then go for an ice cream cone after supper. After we ate, I put Lorelei in the van and ran down to the cemetery hoping beyond hope that Calvin's marker was installed. I could see it as we pulled up. Excitedly I jumped out of the van and walked over to Calvin's grave and within seconds was devastated. We spent $2000.00 and waited four months and his name is spelled wrong. I could just cry.

Honest Scrap

2009-09-11T11:51:00.000-07:00

Leila's mommy at Life After Leila has nominated me for the honest scrap award. Thank you so much! Here are the seven blogs I find brilliant in content and design:

1. Jesse at Truncus Arteriosus http://truncusarteriosus.blogspot.com/

2. Stephanie at The Nie Nie Dialogues http://nieniedialogues.blogspot.com/

3. Molly at The Unlucky Lottery http://theunluckylottery.blogspot.com/

4. Holli at Living Without Brenna http://lifewithoutbrenna.blogspot.com/

5. Heather at It Only Hurts When I Breathe http://mystolenlight.blogspot.com/

6. Trisha at Looking For Blue Sky http://lookingforbluesky.blogspot.com/

7. Shannon at A Memory in My Heart http://a-memory-in-my-heart.blogspot.com/

Before I carry on with the ten random facts about me, I would like to mention that Shannon at A Memory in My Heart has suffered another devastating loss. Please follow the link above and visit her blog to offer her some love.

10 Random Facts About Me

1. I have struggled with my weight all my life. After my first husband and I separated I lost over a hundred pounds going from a size 24 to a size 12. During my pregnancy with Lorelei I gained over seventy pounds of which I still had thirty to lose when I got pregnant with Calvin and Georgia. I gained eighty one pounds with my pregnancy with the twins, of which I lost sixty in the first fifteen days following their births and Calvin's death. My goal is to lose another forty pounds to get back to my wedding day weight.

2. I have trouble forgiving and saying sorry. I have struggled with this character defect of mine for years. I don't forgive easily and have gone as far as to cut people out of my life completely when they hurt me. I'm not proud of this, in fact, it's one of the things I dislike about myself the most. I spent over ten years not speaking to my dad and haven't spoken to a cousin for six years. It often leaves me lonely and regretful but I also struggle with admitting when I'm wrong and saying sorry. It's something I desperately wish to change about myself especially because I know that not being able to forgive will hurt my marriage, something that means the world to me.

3. I bought my first wig ever a month ago in hopes of spicing things up in my life in general. I actually wore it out clubbing when Shane and I went to Vancouver and enjoyed feeling different about myself. He enjoyed it because it was completely out of character for me. Change can be good!

4. I am terrified of bugs and rodents, two things I seem to have in abundance in this old country house of ours. For some reason this house has the biggest spiders I have ever laid eyes on and no matter how many traps we set or poison we put down in the basement, we never seem to completely get rid of all the mice. I hate them both with a passion. I once killed a mouse with my broom. I was so scared I peed my pants and hollered so loud I woke Lorelei up.

5. I think my children are the most beautiful kids in the world and sometimes think I don't show them enough appreciation.

6. Shane and I met at a party after I had been stood up on a date. I had known in the back of my head that day that for some reason Brad (the guy that asked me out) wasn't going to show up. I asked my wonderful friend Ginger to hang out at my house until Brad showed up and if he stood me up, I would give him half an hours grace and then her and I would go out. He never showed and Ginger and I ended up at a party. I met Shane who ironically lived on my street at the time. Four days later we had our first date and within a couple of weeks we were living together. I knew from day one that he was the man I would spend the rest of my life with. I love him more than anything even though we have struggled through so much during our marriage.

7. I worship the doctors that cared for Calvin. I wish with my whole heart that I had enough in me to do a job like they do. The world is so much better because of these two extraordinary men. Dr. S and Dr. C I love you always!

8. I love diamonds. I have more jewelery than I really need but I'm always looking for more.

9. A man once randomly bought me a rose on the streets and told me I was beautiful. I was very overweight at the time so my self esteem wasn't the greatest. His act of kindness has stayed with me for seventeen years now.

10. My husband made me so proud of him once by giving an old woman who was begging in the rain on the streets of Vancouver twenty dollars. He went back to talk to her and asked her to please get out of the rain and go somewhere to get warm. It melted my heart and made me tear up with his compassion and kind heart.

So, there they are. Ten random facts about me. For the people I have tagged, please post your seven blogs and the links to them. Leave a comment on the blog of the people you have tagged, letting them know they have been nominated. Then post your ten random facts. Thanks again so much for nominating me Leila's mommy!!!

The Tragic Garden

2009-09-10T18:15:00.000-07:00

We've been going to the cemetery alot, Lorelei and I. Most of the time it's been just a quick drive through to see if Calvin's marker has been laid or not. And no, it hasn't as of today. A couple of days ago Lorelei and I were on our way home and I told her that I wanted to drive by and see if Calvin's marker was in yet. As we pulled into the cemetery, I turned the music down. Lorelei asked me why we were turning the music down and I told her it was out of respect for the people who lay there and the people who were visiting them. I explained that everyone in the cemetery was somebody's loved one at some time and that to honour their memories, we kept it a quiet and peaceful place. Lorelei was quiet for a moment and then said to me, "Mom, I don't like this tragic garden". "Why not honey?", I asked her. "Because it makes you cry", came the answer. "This place doesn't make me cry Lorelei, I cry because I miss your brother so much." She sat silently in the back for awhile and then said, "I miss Calvin too Mommy, but I still don't like this tragic garden." I smiled and told her that was okay, she didn't have to like it there but it was where her brother's body lay. On the way home the words tragic garden kept repeating themselves over and over again in my head. Yes, the cemetery is a tragic garden, full of sorrow and love and lives turned to stone. So pretty and so painful. All the flowers for people who can no longer enjoy them, full of people who visit probably more often now than they did when their loved one was alive. I haven't bought Calvin flowers for a couple of months, I've been waiting until his marker is set, but I think now I'll buy my daughter some flowers too.

Still Waiting

2009-09-08T18:01:00.001-07:00

We ordered Calvin's marker May 13. It's still not here and I am aggravated beyond belief. At the time we buried Calvin, it was the end of November and the city was no longer installing markers because it was winter. The funeral director advised Shane and I to take our time on deciding what to have it say so when we went in at the beginning of May, we were told it would take six to eight weeks. When it still wasn't installed at the beginning of August I called the funeral home to find out what was going on and was told that the company that makes the markers was behind schedule and that it was due to be shipped out August 17th. I have checked every second day since then and it is still not installed. I am heartbroken my boy has been without a grave marker for almost a year and his father can't bring himself to go to the cemetery until it is installed. By the time it gets here I am afraid it will be too late to bring fresh flowers or that it will be so cool that I won't comfortably be able to spend any time there with him. I'm angry and feel like this is yet one more injustice to my beautiful son. The longer it takes, the more upset I am getting and I am questioning why we have spent the kind of money we did on something that we have yet to see. If it is not installed by the end of the week, the funeral home is going to wish they had never had to deal with me after I get done. I doubt very much if it was one of their children lying in the ground without a grave marker that it would be taking this long. Please keep your fingers crossed for me that Calvin's marker is installed in the next few days so that I can spend time with him there while the sun still shines.

The Reality of Loss

2009-09-06T13:10:00.001-07:00

The reality of loss is that when you least expect it, the pain will creep in and knock you right back down leaving you stunned and breathless. It leaves you questioning every aspect of your life, haunting doubts and what ifs and painful memories squeezing out any semblance of normalcy you've managed to collect. Mirne and Craig's loss has left me reeling, questioning everything I've tried so hard to believe in since Calvin died. Last night the cork blew off what I had managed to bottle up these past few lonely months and the pain surfaced tenfold. My life has lost any vestige of ordinary that once cloaked me in anonymity. I no longer feel invisible, I feel like I have been painted a shocking putrid yellow that announces my freaky existence to everyone around me, an unacceptable colour that gives me a wide berth and makes me feel shamed. My pain is worn in my eyes, on my face and in my posture. It shows through the lack of care I have regarding my appearence or surroundings. I am shabby and not in a chic way. My heart is hanging in shreds and the mentality that comes with a shredded heart is a skewed version of reality, where simple things become ugly as they are interwoven into the pain of loss. I screamed and bellowed and railed and wept angry unaccepting tears last night as I fully began to see just how warped my thinking and feeling has become. I can't watch movies, or the news, or be in situations where there are baby boys or the joy that comes with expectancy. I am jaded and bitter and without hope for myself and my future and no amount of howling wails or hot tears makes it better. Last night the bitter sting of separation crept into my heart, pain I have kept at bay for awhile now by immersing myself in distractions. All of it. The full force of knock you on your ass oh my God my baby died in my arms and is never coming back and I can't have anymore children and my life fucking hurts so much I want to die some days and fuck why can't I just be normal anymore and smile and go about my day making happy plans for my future . The insanity of swirling pain in my heart as I remember my beautiful boy and question every decision I made regarding his life and whether or not I did the right things for him. The anger that it shouldnt have happened to us after trying so hard and now my life is completely fucked up and I just want to smash somebody's teeth in over how unfair this has been and how my husband has been hurt and lashed out in his own painful ways and how my daughter inappropriately tells random strangers that Calvin died when she's feeling insecure. I feel like I can't breathe because my chest is so tight with these constricting chains that at times I just want to ram my head through window glass so that something else besides my heart hurts. It's been nearly ten months now. Ten months of coping and moving further away from him as my life continues and his does not. Separation anxiety is rearing it's ugly head. It's an unnatural state of being, to be suspended in this hell of being without my child. It goes against nature. All my gutteral instincts tell me to pound the ground and beat my chest and let out loud primal screams as I deal with this uncomprehensible separation. All the socially acceptable dos and don'ts I've been taught keep me in check, murmuring my pain on the occassion and keeping my fucking mouth shut for the most part. Fuck society. Take away that which is most precious to you and be told to live with it. Deal with it. Cope with the pain and the feeling of being a freak everyday because you have this horrible secret inside. Keep it together. Keep it together. I can't.....my life is broken. Oh Calvin, what did we do? My gorgeous, perfect boy. Last night I wished your life undone, that I could go back before you were conceived....before the pain dug out my soul and left me hollow. I'm so sorry for feeling like that, for the selfishness of it all while you lay sleeping in your tiny grave. I just can't do this anymore, I don't know how I can......

Praying for Mirne and Craig

2009-09-02T22:36:00.000-07:00

We are what I'd like to say a "closeknit community", us babylost mothers, bound together by a common thread. That thread is knowing the pain of losing a child, the most devastating pain in the world. We console each other, offer words of understanding and love, shore each other up when we are down and celebrate our successes together. Most of us don't know each other in real life, most are connected only through our blogs and our stories, but regardless of the miles between us all, we care. I have come to care very much about women I have never met, through reading their words in their blogs or through comments on my own, we share ourselves and our lives here and it is very much real.

Over the past few months, I have been following Mirne's journey through babyloss from the stillbirth of her daughter Freyja at twenty eight weeks gestation and the sudden death of her one month old son Kees. She has shared her life, her pain and fear with us and recently her hope. Mirne was pregnant and expecting her third child at the end of August, a little boy who arrived safely August 29, 2009. Mirne and Craig named him Jethro Craig Wilhelm, Jet for short and they joyously spread the news of Jet's birth through the blog community. I rejoiced with them as I read about Jet's birth, relieved that Mirne finally had a living child to be mother to. They have lived through so much pain with the loss of their other two children that Jet's safe arrival was indeed a miracle. With shock and sadness tonight I read that Jet had died suddenly in his hospital bassinet at three days old. Why? Why do things like this happen to people who have already lived through so much? How is it that a perfectly healthy baby can be laid down to sleep in his hospital bed to never wake up? Mirne and Craig, my heart is broken for you. I am so utterly saddened right now, so devastated and in complete disbelief that this could happen to you again. My faith in God has been so shaky since my own son died almost ten months ago but I keep hanging on to my belief that someday I will see my son again. This makes me question God why? How could He let this happen to you after already losing two precious children? Where was He when Jet closed his eyes to sleep and took his last breath? I am angry at Him. I am so completely heartbroken for you both. I wish I had some answers that would give some insight as to how so much could happen to one family, but I don't. All I can do is ask that you pray for Mirne and Craig and for their broken hearts. Please pray for Jet's safe journey to heaven and that his mom and dad find peace and love in each other's arms. I'm so so sorry. Mirne and Craig, know that we weep with you and that you are being held in our hearts with love at this very sad time.

Please visit Mirne's blog to offer your condolences for the loss of Baby Jet:

http://freyja-kees-lovedsomuch.blogspot.com/

Just a Vent

2009-08-27T15:45:00.000-07:00

I know this post is going to offend some, believe me it is not meant to in any way, shape or form. This is purely my opinion and not meant to start an arguement with anyone over personal beliefs including religion. But, this is my blog and I am so frustrated and angry right now I need to vent, so here goes.

As Shane and I have struggled over the years to have a family, I have joined numerous forums on the internet hoping to find answers or understanding from women experiencing the same things I've been through. I have been pregnant eight times with nine babies and only have Lorelei and Georgia living and healthy. Having these precious children has been a long road of struggle and heartache for me. Many of you know that I have a condition called Antiphospholipid Antibody Syndrome that has caused me to lose several pregnancies and the treatment caused complications in my pregnancy with Lorelei. Nuff said bout that. Anyhow, one of the forums I visit, Fertilitycommunity.com, has been a wonderful place for me to go and share and find information about pregnancy and infertility. Most, if not all of the women on that site are dealing with infertility to some degree. Some have been trying for years to get pregnant and will never have the opportunity. Others, like me, have had problems related to health issues that have been resolved enough to carry a child. A couple of weeks ago, a woman on my forum posted a topic requesting input on circumscision. Fair enough. It is my basic understanding that in Canada, circumscision is considered an unecessary cosmetic surgery and is no longer covered by medical. In fact, very few doctors in the valley will perform this surgery anymore. I know this because my sister in law had a tough time finding a doctor to circumsize her son. My feelings on this topic have changed drastically in the last ten years. When I was married to my previous husband, he was circumsized and I had always assumed that if we had children together, if we had a boy he would be too. My feelings changed after I watched a documentary on circumscision put on by the CBC years ago. I never realized that such a widespread practise could cause damage or harm to an infant. In the documentary, various forms of circumscision were shown, including one in a surgical suite at a hospital and one being done by a rabbi in a Jewish temple. There were interviews with several doctors who were pro and against the operation. One thing that was brought up in the documentary was complications from circumscision. There were pictures of babies who had developed infections and scarring that caused horrible damage to their penises. Some babies lost their penises altogether after resulting infection led to gangrene. Yes, in our country and in our civilized society these things do still happen. It got me to thinking at that time, what if I circumsized my son and something went wrong and he lost his penis and was never able to have sexual intercourse when he was a man. What if I had my son circumsized and scar tissue prevented him from urinating properly? Why would I be having this surgery performed on my son for other than cosmetic reasons? It was at that point that I made the decision to not circumsize any male children I would have. This is something I feel rather strongly about, having struggled to have my children. There is no way I would have subjected Calvin to an elective surgery that has a risk of complications for any reason. To make a long story short, I posted my reasons against circumscision in the thread on the forum and included the pathology report from the Penticton boy who died following his circumsicision. Most of the women who posted in that thread had had their sons circumsized and used reasoning such as cleanliness, infection and disease control as to why they had had the procedure done. Most of them ridiculed my concerns of complications, one even said in a post that we risk our lives crossing the street everyday and the chance of something happening like a complication was minimal. I do understand this. I also know first had how it feels to lose a child after being given a ninety percent prognosis on his recovery. It sucks being in the ten percent who develop complications to surgery and die. But it does happen. It happened to us. Statistically circumsicsion is a relatively safe procedure, but things do go wrong. In Canada, most doctors now view it as an unecessary surgery. Men have been born with foreskins since the beginning of time and being married to a man who is not circumsized and who has had no issue with hygiene, infection or cleanliness proves to me that it is not necessary to have it done to be clean. I was horrified that these women who have struggled for so long to have children, many dealing with infertility struggles for years, could put a child that they have worked so hard to have at risk for surgical complications. Yes this is just my opinion, but I was seething mad that some of these women practically laughed at me for my very real and valid points. Complications do indeed happen, that is why parents are informed of complication risks prior to the procedure being done. As a mother, if I had had my son circumsized and he developed complications that prevented him from having a healthy functioning penis later in life, I would not be able to live with the guilt. As for the children themselves, they are not able to make informed consent at this point in life and as a result could end up damaged from a decision that was made for them. I could not believe that my points would be taken so lightly and even mocked after attaching the post mortem findings from the pathologist who performed the autopsy on the local boy who bled to death following his circumsicision. I'm angry right now at those women who could take the health of their children so lightly and without consequence and who refuse to acknowledge risk. Wonder how it will feel for them if something does go wrong? I know how I felt being in the bottom percent, it was the worst thing in the world.

Lorelei's Fourth Birthday

2009-08-23T22:44:00.000-07:00

My God, can it really be four years already since my first child was born? It seems like only yesterday I awoke at two am on August 23, 2005 to pains in my upper right quadrent. About a millisecond ago I was waking up in recovery screaming in pain and asking frantically about my baby. I'm lucky she made it. Lorelei's birth at thirty six weeks was the result of an emergency c-section due to a partial placental abruption. I remember looking at her in her isolette thinking, "I'm a mother, finally...", and falling instantly in love with the tiny baby that lay there. She was small, six pounds, five ounces and covered in furry blonde hair all over her tiny body. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her face was perfect with each tiny feature exactly as it should be. She was my first and my love for her was so overwhelminly strong I wept many tears in the first months she was mine. I was also terrified. Her prematurity caused her to have a poor sucking reflex, she could only manage a few sucks when she latched and was soon fitted with a ng tube. She also had several episodes of desaturation in the first month, usually during a feed where she would suddenly go limp and turn bright blue. Many times in the beginning I was sure she would die, I was terrified to leave her with anyone, even relatives. I was sure that no one could love her as much as Shane and I did, therefore no one would take the level of care with her that we did. As much as her first year was hard on me emotionally, it was so rewarding. Lorelei became the most content baby, sleeping through the night by sixteen weeks, rarely crying. She developed a strong personality, enjoying attention immensely she would bask in the adoration of strangers when we would go out shopping. By age two, when people would tell her she was beautiful, she would look and say, "yes, I know...thank you!" I was always careful to make sure her clothes were pretty and clean and she began to love to wear dresses because she was absolutely sure she was indeed a princess. Ahhh, mommy memories. Looking back makes my heart smile with love for my firstborn, remembering all the laughter, all the tears, all the silly, funny, scary, new, awkward, wonderful moments. My baby just turned four. Four. This time next year we will be preparing her for kindergarten and oh my word I just want her to stop. Stop growing, stop changing, stop becoming a little girl instead of my little big girl. Stay small stay home with me forever, be my snuggling little stubborn baby/girl who refused potty training until just months ago, the girl who loves to kiss her mommy and hold her hand still. Stay young and innocent and beautiful and unafraid of the world, stay excited to see family and wave at strangers. Keep on announcing your thoughts without censoring them, keep spontaneously bursting into song and dance, stay cuddling with daddy and asking for shoulder rides and dressing up as a princess in your crown and fake jewels. Stay my firstborn girl...stay loving me and everything around you. The older you grow, the less free your soul and your innocence is so beautiful and unaware of the things we adults feel ashamed of. I wish I could hang on to you my girl. Keep you the way you are right now forever, keep you from ever being hurt or feeling jaded. Keep you loving yourself enough to run through the sprinkler naked without shame and confident enough to sing the wrong words at the top of your lungs offkey with a huge smile on your face. I hate that you're growing so fast. I love that you are mine and that you make me proud and happy to be your mother. Happy Birthday Baby Girl....you've come a long way.

A Trip Back

2009-08-21T00:31:00.000-07:00

Shane and I went back to Vancouver for a getaway this past week. We stayed in the neighbourhood we lived in when we were living down there preparing for the twin's births. It felt like going home in alot of ways but it also stirred up some old feelings of melancholy. I didn't do much when we were living in Vancouver, I was so heavily pregnant with Calvin and Georgia that it was very hard for me to get around. About the only places I ever went was to the hospital for appointments and to our favorite restaurant to eat. I was unprepared for how strong the feeling of connection to Vancouver and to my son until we were there again. Driving past the house we lived in brought me back to the days where I impatiently and uncomfortably waited for my babies to be born. It was bittersweet, my heart was happy to be back but also sad with the memories of those times, of all the hope that was lost when Calvin died. Shane and I had planned on staying permanently at that time, optimistic that Calvin would live and that we would need to be close to Children's Hospital for his cardiology appointments. We had been told that he would need numerous checkups with the cardiology department once he was born and had had his corrective surgery. We had been told to anticipate two to four visits a month and at that point it made more sense to us to stay down there rather than driving back and forth from our home all the time. I'll never forget the day we left, I felt as if I were leaving a part of myself, part of my heart behind as we locked up our home and got in the car to drive back to our lives. It was an empty, aching feeling. A feeling of futility, that we had done so much to give our son the best chance at survival, only to lose him in the end. A feeling of dread coming back to our home, our lives as we had left them, without our son. Being down there again, with Georgia a chubby, smiling nine month old and Lorelei about to turn four, was hugely different from one year ago. Although it seems like yesterday that it all happened, so much has changed in our lives since then. Lorelei's change is remarkable. She is calmer, more well behaved, more articulate than she was last year at this time. As we returned to our favorite restaurant, she was bubbling with anticipation of seeing Steve, the owner, who had treated her with such kindness while we were living there. As we walked in, the staff recognized us immediately and Steve was happy to receive Lorelei's hugs and kisses. We were seated at our usual table and the staff began to inquire about the twins and what had happened to our son. Several times during our trip, I had to swallow the lump in my throat that threatened to choke me into sobbing tears as I remembered times we spent waiting, hoping and praying for everything to turn out alright. I'm amazed some days that we have lived through it. We have definitely come out on the other side different than we went into the situation. There has been more hurt, more doubt, more questioning why than ever before. There has also been a hurt in our marriage, hurt not so much between us but within our relationship because of the devastating loss of our son. There has also been a shift in my thinking, a greater appreciation for all who have supported us through losing Calvin, and an impatience with those who have no idea that their petty complaints are so small in comparison with the pain of losing a child. I have come through with a stronger love for my daughters, a tenderness that tears at my heart sometimes when Lorelei is angry or disobedient with me. Going back was good in alot of ways, a reconnection with the familiar, with the city where my hope lay for so long. Going back was important for all of us. The day our babies were born, Shane's parents took Lorelei to build a bear where she made two beautiful bears for Calvin and Georgia. I had suggested that we take her back so that she could make a bear for herself for her birthday. I had heard from my mother in law that the heart ceremony at Build a Bear was touching, that as she watched Lorelei go through the ritual of choosing hearts for her bears and then the steps that followed, she had to fight back the tears. This time Shane took her to build her own bear and when it came time to choose a heart, she chose two, one for her and one for her brother. Shane stood with tears in his eyes as she kissed the hearts to give them love, and then blew on them to give them life before she put them into her new bear. That ritual brought healing to my daughter and her father, gave them a moment together in love and rememberance. I felt closer to my son in the days we were down than I have in awhile, I think I will always think of Vancouver as his place, the place of our hopes and dreams, the place of Calvin's birth and death. The city and it's memories are woven together with my love for Calvin, a love that was good to get back to.

And Then the Bottom Dropped Out...

2009-08-08T15:30:00.000-07:00

You've probably noticed I haven't been around. The day before my sixth anniversary, my husband told me he wasn't happy in our marriage, that he didn't know if he could live with the fact that we can't have more children and that he wouldn't have the son he's longed for. I was devastated. Shane and I had made the decision to have my tubes tied during the births of our twins because after receiving Calvin's diagnosis and after losing so many pregnancies in trying to have our family, we felt we couldn't take the emotional upheaval that would come with another loss. We tried talking it out, we went out for our anniversary and tried to spend some time together but there was just too much tension. I was terribly hurt, not having a clue that he had been unhappy for some while I felt blindsided by his revelation and terribly sick about the prospect of losing my marriage on top of everything. Shane decided to take some time away for himself to sort out his feelings, a miserable four days that I spent stewing and worried about what was going to happen to us. During his time away, we had a conversation on the phone that made him realize just how much he wanted to be with us and he drove through the night to get home. Since his return, we have been focusing on us, on our feelings and the sadness in our marriage, trying to find a way to start fresh. It was never an issue of our love, but of years of sadness, disappointment and heartbreak in trying to have a family together. We have been through way more than any couple should have to go through in a lifetime in the six years we've been married. Sometimes it's hard to separate the feelings for what they are, feelings of sadness in what life has dealt us, not unhappiness with each other. Please say a prayer for us as we continue to work on our relationship and trying to find a way out of all the pain we've been through. I love my husband more than anything and want us to stay together as a family, thankfully it's what he wants too.