"Angel-versary"... "Anniversary".. "Date of Death".. The list goes on and on, but there really isn't a nice way to say "This is the day my baby died". I have struggled with what to write here for some time (the last month at least), and I think I'll just let my rambling thoughts take over.
A year ago today, we thought we were just going for a "routine" ultrasound to check the fluid levels. After that, we went to prenatal, where they told us that everything on the ultrasound looked fine, and I would see my specialist the next day. The doctor decided to to a prenatal checkup, and her heart beat was gone...three hours after seeing her alive on an ultrasound. Since then, I have come to find out, that the radiologist's report of that ultrasound noted that there was fluid around the bowels. I guess, what I am struggling with, is why didn't they tell me? What did the report that the doctor was holding in his hand say? Did he lie to me? Or worse! This is a terrible thought that I have carried with me since I found out about the ultrasound report last March; Could they see that something was going horribly wrong? And did they know that because of the lack of a NICU at that hospital, and the time it would take to get to one (an hour), that my daughter would likely die, and did they just let it happen?? I have thought writing a letter to the radiologist, the ultrasound technician, and the doctor who discovered that she was gone, and ask them for an explanation. But, I know that they would likely lie to me anyway, so they don't "upset" me in my current "fragile" state.
So, as I sit here, obsessively kick counting bump's every movement (thanks to the recent ultrasound findings of low amniotic fluid), I still can't believe a year has passed since she died. In many ways, it feels like a lifetime ago. But, in other ways, it feels just like yesterday. I am procrastinating on getting the nursery ready for "Bump". As I look around that room, So much of Kheri remains. She is still, physically, in that room. I moved her ashes (concealed inside a plush teddy bear), from the crib, to the hammock with the other toys. Then I moved it 24 hours later to the little rocking chair that is a family heirloom. It didn't seem right to just push her up there with the other toys...not yet anyway. She'll probably remain in that chair for a while, as I can't imagine where else to put her. I put her memory box in the closet, because I couldn't think of another place for it where it wouldn't get covered (and ruined) by dust. Slowly, pieces of her are being moved aside to make room for her little sister. I really have a fair amount of work to do in there before "bump" arrives, and yet I continue to put it off. Bump's movements have changed in the last few days...increasing my paranoia, and certainly not making these days any easier.
We don't have anything planned yet for her "birthday", which is Sunday. I'm not sure what I want to do, what I should do, or even what I need to do on that day. We have been invited to a couple of Superbowl parties, and I have declined the invitation to one. It is too bloody cold outside to do anything there, and everything is covered by nearly a foot of snow anyway. We'll see what the day brings. I can easily see nothing happening, and I think I'd be OK with that.
A year ago today, our lives changed forever. I know that next year we will still feel the same, and even 20 years from now we will reflect on her short little life. A year ago, we discovered that she was gone, and that night I didn't sleep at all. I wrote a post in the wee hours of the morning, and I mentioned a song. That song has been playing in my head the last few days, and certainly seems appropriate. I know that every year, I will wonder, who she'd be today...
Sunny days seem to hurt the most,
I wear the pain like a heavy coat.
I feel you everywhere I go.
I see your smile, I see your face
I hear you laughing in the rain.
Still can't believe you're gone.
It ain't fair you died too young.
Like a story that had just begun,
But death tore the pages all away.
God knows how I miss you,
All the hell that I've been through,
Just knowing no one could take your place.
Sometimes I wonder, who you'd be today.
Would you see the world?
Would you chase your dreams?
Settle down with a family?
I wonder, what would you name your babies?
Some days the sky's so blue,
I feel like I can talk to you
And I know it might sound crazy
Sunny days seem to hurt the most.
I wear the pain like a heavy coat.
The only thing that gives me hope..
Is I know, I'll see you again someday.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
A quick Christmas reflection
I know this post is really late, but I felt it was necessary. Since the holidays, I've had a chance to reflect on the "most wonderful time of the year", and it has taken me a while to come up with something to say. Over Christmas, I did whatever I could to avoid awkward family get togethers. I didn't feel the need to honour any "traditions" this year, and with my husband working both Christmas and boxing day, I knew I wouldn't have him to go to the "dinners" with. I ended up going to my girl's(Iris, from My Life In Purple) parent's place for Christmas day. We had a quiet, laid back day, with a great meal, and "Santa" even left something for me. I am so grateful for that safe haven on Christmas day!
On boxing day, there were two family dinners, and both of them were with my hubby' family. My family lives in Ontario, and I haven't been there for Christmas in 6 years, mostly due to the 15 hour drive, and the horrible weather that can happen at that time of year. I opted to go to the meal that was closer to home, and where it would likely be more peaceful for my soul. Mostly because my hubby's grandmother hasn't been well, and I thought that I should be there. I missed the other family dinner, and looking at the pictures, I am glad that I didn't go. My hubby's cousin's both have little ones. One cousin has the eldest little girl, and she is expecting again and is due three weeks before I am. The other cousin had her little one last year just before Christmas. At last year's gathering we were all talking about what it would be like "next year" with three little girls in the house. A picture was even taken of the three little ones.
As you can see, there is someone missing from these next two pictures, and these pictures just confirmed that I had made the right decision to not attend that family dinner.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
11 months- Am I crazy?
**ATTENTION BABY LOST MOMS AND DADS, AND CARING FOLLOWERS - I am seeking your advice in this post**
So, in two days, (or on the 6th of January), 11 months will have passed since Kherrington's birth, and with only one more month until her first "birthday", I am a little "on edge". There are still many preparations that I should be doing for "bump" 's arrival, and yet I keep putting it off. I keep saying "I'll wait a few more weeks" or "don't spend money just yet", and I hate it. I hate the apprehension, I hate the tension, and I hate the fact that I just can't relax. I think I am most relaxed when "bump" is throwing a dance party in my uterus, or when there is a doppler microphone picking up her heart-beat, or when the specialist takes pictures and says "Baby looks fine". As I type this, and contemplate where this post will go, I wonder if it would be better to post it on my rainbow blog, but I think I will leave it here. I don't think I would be feeling this way if Kherrington was alive.
I am eager to have Kheri's birthday come and go. Much like most "anniversaries" and landmark events, the days leading up to it, are far worse than the actual day. I don't know what we'll do, or if we'll really do anything at all. It is difficult to really plan anything when it has the potential to be really cold, and more than likely her tree is buried under 3 feet of snow. I think maybe we'll wait until the spring, and make an addition to her "tree area"...perhaps turn it into a garden.
Kheri's passing is affecting how I want things to be after "bump" 's arrival. When we were expecting Kherrington, I think my attitude was "Well, a little privacy for a short while will be nice, but after that, the more the merrier!" I wanted Kherrington to be passed around a room full of people. But I know that with this baby it will be very different. I am feeling the need for privacy after her birth and homecoming (I know we will likely have more visitors at the hospital, than we will ever see at the house). I really feel this with our rainbow because we know that she may be our only biological child. We have discussed adoption for our second child (should we decide we want a second child), and we know that our chances of getting a new born in an adoption situation are slim to none.
I remember all too well how I felt physically after Kherrington's birth, and now, I'm trying to comprehend what it will be like to add our rainbow baby and all the emotions she will bring, to the physical discomfort. This thought makes me want to lock the door, and close the blinds. I remember my grief counsellor's warning that this rainbow's arrival might be difficult, and that it sparks a different reaction in every couple. I really don't know if my ramblings today are making any sense or not, but I guess I'm thinking more and more that I want to be able to pick and choose who visits, and when. I'm thinking that for at least the first week, that unless someone is dropping off a meal, or coming to clean my house, I think DH and I will want to spend as much time as possible with "bump", bonding and learning about her, before he has to return to work. I am wondering, and thinking, that it might be "good for the soul, when there's not a soul in sight".
**WARNING: TMI rant coming up. I know that you BLMs you can relate!**
Also, it is hard to be hospitable, or even a decent and pleasant human being, when your vagina (and entire crotch) feels like it has been repeatedly beaten with a baseball bat, and looks like it too. You walk around with ice in your underwear, you easily flood a pad when you stand up, and you're still cramping and contracting. An empty house really is needed when you are trying not to scream when you pee, while spraying yourself with a warm water bottle. I'm not even going to go into what that first bowel movement is like. Or the fact that you might think you're done in the shower, and you turn off the water, only to look down and see your legs covered in blood, and have to start all over again. I haven't included the joys of breastfeeding because I haven't experienced them. I did have the engorgement though, and the tears that come when you gently remove a bra from your engorged breasts and you feel like they just might explode. These are all the things that people never talk about when they have a baby, and facts of life, that are often not considered by those well intentioned guests who say "Smile, you just had a baby!"
Kherrington's death has forced us to become selfish. I have been re-assured by my counsellor that this selfishness is necessary for our survival as individuals and as a couple, and perhaps it was necessary all along. She said during one session "Perhaps you have spent too much time in your life worrying about hurting others, and not enough time looking after yourself, and what you want." I have been re-playing these words in my mind the last few weeks, as we prepare for the likely arrival of our rainbow.
I am hoping for some feedback from other rainbow moms, or anyone who has been around baby lost parents when they bring home a rainbow. What was your first week after your rainbow's birth like? For expectant rainbow moms, how do you feel that your angel's passing is going to affect your rainbow's "baby moon" ? I know how I feel, I guess the problem is admitting it. I guess I'm just looking for other BLMs and dads who have been there, to tell me I'm not crazy? (Feel free to tell me I'm crazy if you want to... I'll just tune it out ;P Besides, I have been told repeatedly that I'm still allowed to be selfish when it comes to this "life after a dead baby" thing. )
So, in two days, (or on the 6th of January), 11 months will have passed since Kherrington's birth, and with only one more month until her first "birthday", I am a little "on edge". There are still many preparations that I should be doing for "bump" 's arrival, and yet I keep putting it off. I keep saying "I'll wait a few more weeks" or "don't spend money just yet", and I hate it. I hate the apprehension, I hate the tension, and I hate the fact that I just can't relax. I think I am most relaxed when "bump" is throwing a dance party in my uterus, or when there is a doppler microphone picking up her heart-beat, or when the specialist takes pictures and says "Baby looks fine". As I type this, and contemplate where this post will go, I wonder if it would be better to post it on my rainbow blog, but I think I will leave it here. I don't think I would be feeling this way if Kherrington was alive.
I am eager to have Kheri's birthday come and go. Much like most "anniversaries" and landmark events, the days leading up to it, are far worse than the actual day. I don't know what we'll do, or if we'll really do anything at all. It is difficult to really plan anything when it has the potential to be really cold, and more than likely her tree is buried under 3 feet of snow. I think maybe we'll wait until the spring, and make an addition to her "tree area"...perhaps turn it into a garden.
Kheri's passing is affecting how I want things to be after "bump" 's arrival. When we were expecting Kherrington, I think my attitude was "Well, a little privacy for a short while will be nice, but after that, the more the merrier!" I wanted Kherrington to be passed around a room full of people. But I know that with this baby it will be very different. I am feeling the need for privacy after her birth and homecoming (I know we will likely have more visitors at the hospital, than we will ever see at the house). I really feel this with our rainbow because we know that she may be our only biological child. We have discussed adoption for our second child (should we decide we want a second child), and we know that our chances of getting a new born in an adoption situation are slim to none.
I remember all too well how I felt physically after Kherrington's birth, and now, I'm trying to comprehend what it will be like to add our rainbow baby and all the emotions she will bring, to the physical discomfort. This thought makes me want to lock the door, and close the blinds. I remember my grief counsellor's warning that this rainbow's arrival might be difficult, and that it sparks a different reaction in every couple. I really don't know if my ramblings today are making any sense or not, but I guess I'm thinking more and more that I want to be able to pick and choose who visits, and when. I'm thinking that for at least the first week, that unless someone is dropping off a meal, or coming to clean my house, I think DH and I will want to spend as much time as possible with "bump", bonding and learning about her, before he has to return to work. I am wondering, and thinking, that it might be "good for the soul, when there's not a soul in sight".
**WARNING: TMI rant coming up. I know that you BLMs you can relate!**
Also, it is hard to be hospitable, or even a decent and pleasant human being, when your vagina (and entire crotch) feels like it has been repeatedly beaten with a baseball bat, and looks like it too. You walk around with ice in your underwear, you easily flood a pad when you stand up, and you're still cramping and contracting. An empty house really is needed when you are trying not to scream when you pee, while spraying yourself with a warm water bottle. I'm not even going to go into what that first bowel movement is like. Or the fact that you might think you're done in the shower, and you turn off the water, only to look down and see your legs covered in blood, and have to start all over again. I haven't included the joys of breastfeeding because I haven't experienced them. I did have the engorgement though, and the tears that come when you gently remove a bra from your engorged breasts and you feel like they just might explode. These are all the things that people never talk about when they have a baby, and facts of life, that are often not considered by those well intentioned guests who say "Smile, you just had a baby!"
Kherrington's death has forced us to become selfish. I have been re-assured by my counsellor that this selfishness is necessary for our survival as individuals and as a couple, and perhaps it was necessary all along. She said during one session "Perhaps you have spent too much time in your life worrying about hurting others, and not enough time looking after yourself, and what you want." I have been re-playing these words in my mind the last few weeks, as we prepare for the likely arrival of our rainbow.
I am hoping for some feedback from other rainbow moms, or anyone who has been around baby lost parents when they bring home a rainbow. What was your first week after your rainbow's birth like? For expectant rainbow moms, how do you feel that your angel's passing is going to affect your rainbow's "baby moon" ? I know how I feel, I guess the problem is admitting it. I guess I'm just looking for other BLMs and dads who have been there, to tell me I'm not crazy? (Feel free to tell me I'm crazy if you want to... I'll just tune it out ;P Besides, I have been told repeatedly that I'm still allowed to be selfish when it comes to this "life after a dead baby" thing. )
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
A new year...and new hope.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all my followers! I have to say that 2010 has to be one of the most bittersweet years of my life.
We awaited Kherrington's arrival in January, and worked hard to prepare a nursery. Then we had to say hello and goodbye over the course of 3 days in February. We shopped for an urn and memorial jewellery instead of having a baby shower and buying all the last minute things she would need. In March we had a memorial, and got our tattoos in April. Somehow, we managed to survive the rest of the spring. I returned to work in May, and my DH graduated from the Paramedic Academy in July. We found out we were expecting July 31st, my DH started his job in August. With each passing week this fall and winter, our little rainbow is shining brighter and brighter.
Now here we are at Christmas, and then a New Year. Soon after the start of 2011, we will mark Kheri's first birthday. It is hard to believe we're approaching her first "angelversary" or "Birthday". Within 6 weeks of her birthday, we hope to be celebrating the live and safe arrival of our rainbow. Goodbye 2010, a year of highs and lows. A year of breathless moments.
"Life's not the breath you take,
The Breathing in and out.
That gets you through the day,
Ain't what it's all about.
You just might miss the point,
Trying to win the race.
Life's not the breaths you take,
But the moments that take your breath away.."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OTnydJZjWio
We awaited Kherrington's arrival in January, and worked hard to prepare a nursery. Then we had to say hello and goodbye over the course of 3 days in February. We shopped for an urn and memorial jewellery instead of having a baby shower and buying all the last minute things she would need. In March we had a memorial, and got our tattoos in April. Somehow, we managed to survive the rest of the spring. I returned to work in May, and my DH graduated from the Paramedic Academy in July. We found out we were expecting July 31st, my DH started his job in August. With each passing week this fall and winter, our little rainbow is shining brighter and brighter.
Now here we are at Christmas, and then a New Year. Soon after the start of 2011, we will mark Kheri's first birthday. It is hard to believe we're approaching her first "angelversary" or "Birthday". Within 6 weeks of her birthday, we hope to be celebrating the live and safe arrival of our rainbow. Goodbye 2010, a year of highs and lows. A year of breathless moments.
"Life's not the breath you take,
The Breathing in and out.
That gets you through the day,
Ain't what it's all about.
You just might miss the point,
Trying to win the race.
Life's not the breaths you take,
But the moments that take your breath away.."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OTnydJZjWio
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
10 months
So in the hectic insanity that was the last few days, I forgot to write a post yesterday :( We went to Fredericton (1 hour away) for an ultrasound and OB appointment for our rainbow baby. The weather wasn't the best, and we got home late. Kherrington would have been 10 months old yesterday, and probaby trying to pull herself up on the Christmas tree. I wonder who would have eaten more needles off the tree..her or the cats? In many ways I can't believe it is December already. Time marches on...
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Our deepest fear.
I have had several discussions recently with other BLMs, friends, family, doctors, colleagues and acquaintances, about the power behind being a baby-lost parent. The power that comes with talking about your dead child, and the power in the words "my baby died". It is like a brick, shattering through the "crystal palace dreams" that some people have about life.
When you tell an unsuspecting person that your baby died, the expression on their face usually tells it all. Their shock, dismay, and guilt is usually summed up with an "I'm so sorry, I didn't know... If I had known, I wouldn't have....That is just awful". Sometimes a tear or two, a unsuspecting hug, or you just see the shoulders slump, and the head drop. It really just lets the air out of the high flying balloon that they were riding that day. And that is a powerful thing. It is very powerful that my daughter and I have that power to make people stop..and potentially think.
I remember when Kherrington passed away. As a mother, and as a woman, I felt inadequate and a failure. I couldn't even pick up on the fact that something was wrong. What kind of parent was I. But with LOTS of counselling, and the ability to talk about her, I have discovered that us baby lost parents are powerful beings.
I was watching a movie this afternoon..Coach Carter. It is based on a true story of a coach of a inner city basketball team. While trying to change a young man who was heading for trouble, this coach repeatedly asked him "What is your deepest fear?". The young man answered with this, and I instantly paused the video and wrote it down. As baby lost parents we have plenty of fears, but it think for most of us, this sums it up.
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were all meant to shine, just as children do. It is not just in some of us, it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
When you tell an unsuspecting person that your baby died, the expression on their face usually tells it all. Their shock, dismay, and guilt is usually summed up with an "I'm so sorry, I didn't know... If I had known, I wouldn't have....That is just awful". Sometimes a tear or two, a unsuspecting hug, or you just see the shoulders slump, and the head drop. It really just lets the air out of the high flying balloon that they were riding that day. And that is a powerful thing. It is very powerful that my daughter and I have that power to make people stop..and potentially think.
I remember when Kherrington passed away. As a mother, and as a woman, I felt inadequate and a failure. I couldn't even pick up on the fact that something was wrong. What kind of parent was I. But with LOTS of counselling, and the ability to talk about her, I have discovered that us baby lost parents are powerful beings.
I was watching a movie this afternoon..Coach Carter. It is based on a true story of a coach of a inner city basketball team. While trying to change a young man who was heading for trouble, this coach repeatedly asked him "What is your deepest fear?". The young man answered with this, and I instantly paused the video and wrote it down. As baby lost parents we have plenty of fears, but it think for most of us, this sums it up.
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were all meant to shine, just as children do. It is not just in some of us, it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
Friday, November 5, 2010
9 months
So, Kherrington would be 9 months old tomorrow. What do I say to that? It seems as though time has slipped away from us, especially with "bump" growing and showing us that she is there.
Kherrington sure left her mark, like we knew she would. I'm pretty sure she is what is making me pause and say "was that your sister kicking?..no.. it is just gas. If I knew it was your sister for sure, I'd go crazy when she is not moving". She is what made me fill my arms with cute onesies last week at the superstore, then pause and put them all back on the rack, when I realized "I have stuff at home". She is the voice in my head that says "Just wait a few more weeks before opening up that room or buying a lot of stuff".
About two weeks ago at work, I was working with one of the supervisors on a project. When our meeting was finished, we were just chatting about this pregnancy, and about Kheri. He looked at me and said "But you know, when this one comes along, you'll forget all about her"... My heart skipped, my jaw dropped. My biggest fear is people forgetting. I know we sure won't, but I know some people will. He continued to say "When this one comes, you'll be so happy that it will make it better for you". I immediately said " No, I don't think so. I know I can't forget. I know I'll wonder in the fall of 2028 which college/university she would have gone to". He then did what most people do...stutter and trip over their words until they finally just shut up.
Anyway, Kheri would be 9 months old tomorrow. That is all.
Kherrington sure left her mark, like we knew she would. I'm pretty sure she is what is making me pause and say "was that your sister kicking?..no.. it is just gas. If I knew it was your sister for sure, I'd go crazy when she is not moving". She is what made me fill my arms with cute onesies last week at the superstore, then pause and put them all back on the rack, when I realized "I have stuff at home". She is the voice in my head that says "Just wait a few more weeks before opening up that room or buying a lot of stuff".
About two weeks ago at work, I was working with one of the supervisors on a project. When our meeting was finished, we were just chatting about this pregnancy, and about Kheri. He looked at me and said "But you know, when this one comes along, you'll forget all about her"... My heart skipped, my jaw dropped. My biggest fear is people forgetting. I know we sure won't, but I know some people will. He continued to say "When this one comes, you'll be so happy that it will make it better for you". I immediately said " No, I don't think so. I know I can't forget. I know I'll wonder in the fall of 2028 which college/university she would have gone to". He then did what most people do...stutter and trip over their words until they finally just shut up.
Anyway, Kheri would be 9 months old tomorrow. That is all.
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