A Year of Change

Wow, it's been over a year since I last posted....I can't believe it.  It's been a busy, busy year, full of change for me.  First and foremost was the big move.  Last August, as time was running out on our rented house and the demolitian date in September loomed closer, I went into panic mode realizing that if I didn't find a suitable house to buy within two weeks, we'd be back in the renting game.  The thought of renting another house was something I absolutely could NOT stomach and by the looks of housing in BC, we could not afford to buy in the place I loved SO much.  On a whim, we decided to drive out to Alberta, to Medicine Hat and see what there was to offer.  We had found a place online that looked promising and although in need of alot of updating, was in our price range, had ample space and tons of potential.  After dinner one Tuesday evening, we packed the kids in the car and drove all night to get to Medicine Hat.  After making arrangements to meet with a realtor, we slept for a few hours and then got up to start looking at houses.  There were a few disasters of course, houses that were in such horrible shape due to neglect or foreclosure, that it almost put me off buying.  But then all of a sudden there were some beautiful places, houses completely renovated, beautiful tile and hardwood floors, fireplaces, and everything I could almost want.  With one exception...Most of the houses we were looking at had detached garages.  I didn't want that.  I knew the winters in Alberta could be brutal and I did NOT want to have to trudge through the snow and cold to reach my vehicle.  I wanted an attached garage, where I could step out of the warmth of my house, into the dry shelter of the garage to start my vehicle and warm it up before I had to go anywhere.  At long last we arrived at the house we had found online.  I was captured by the cute alcove off the front door, secluded and partially covered with a stone tile patio.  It would be perfect for summer evenings under the stars.  I could imagine sitting out there with a few friends and some cold drinks laughing the evening away as we talked....

Once we got into the house it was a different story.  In need of updating was an understatement.  Orange shag carpet, a minuscule kitchen, beige-pink toilet and tub....ick.  But the downstairs was truly hideous.  The carpeting looked like it had been stolen from a dive in Vegas.  It was red and gold and black and hideous beyond imagination.  Everything was wallpapered and in the room we were considering to be Georgia's, someone had made a patchwork carpet out of six inch squares of random shag and had GLUED them to the floor.  I was beyond disappointed.  As we trudged back upstairs with the realtor, my heart was heavy.  But then, she turned to us and said, I've been saving the best for last, come with me.  She led us out into the backyard.  The yard was overgrown, the grass was patchy and weedy, the deck seemed a little shaky but beyond two overgrown cedars she gestured us to follow.  She opened our back gate and we stepped into a lush green park.  There were jungle gyms and swings, walking trails and beautiful trees.  You'll never have anyone move in behind you she said, this view will always be yours.  And it was spectacular.  I could picture the kids playing in the park and us walking down the paved trails during sunny spring days.  I knew this would be our home.  I suddenly loved this house, with it's gross carpets and outdated appliances and peeling wallpaper.  I knew that even if I couldn't afford to do all the work on it at once, that I would make it my own and that underneath all the garish cosmetics was a foundation of hopes and dreams and stability.  I started looking at the positives.  TWO laundry rooms, one up and one down, a double attached garage, the cute alcove off the front door, SEVEN bedrooms, and two and a half baths.  But best of all was the park.  It brought me such a feeling of serenity standing out there in all that green that I knew I was going to make an offer on this house.  The following day I made the offer.  Within the hour it was countered and I made a second offer.  To my delight it was accepted.  OMG, I had just purchased my first home.  That afternoon, we signed the papers, made arrangements to transfer the money from my mom's estate and the owners who lived out of town agreed to let us take possession in a weeks time.  It was the fastest real estate deal in ReMax Medicine Hat's history.  We had a week to pack up, tie up loose ends, and say good-bye before we moved almost two provinces away.  My elation was cut short with the realization I would be leaving Calvin behind and a lump formed in my throat.  I didn't know if I could do it....To Be Continued

Coming Apart at the Seams

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.

Some Days

I really fucking hate my life....

For Lorelei

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...

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

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

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...

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)

Mom...

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

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...

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....

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

In A Lonely Place

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

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

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

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

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...

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.