Tuesday, July 30, 2013

The ONE who RUNS

...and swims and bikes and so much more!  This past weekend, my eight year old participated in and completed her first triathlon.  It was amazing!  Obviously it was age appropriate distances but nonetheless, she did it and we are so proud of her!  Below are a few pictures from the day:


One hour before triathlon..."the nerves" were just setting in...
In the pool...
Transition between swim and bike
Heading out to ride
Just about finished on the bike
 
On the home stretch...

The finish line!

My girl and me

My daughter's name is Marissa.  She is my firstborn.  She too has a complicated story of birth that over time I will share.  She too has a story of loss, the loss of her two brothers, the loss of the promise that she would be a big sister in the conventional sense, and the loss of her "old mommy", twice.  Marissa reminds me all the time that she is a big sister, and her brothers live in our hearts.  She reminds me that I am not alone.  She reminds me that I am wrapped in love.  She does all this, most times not knowing how much she is helping her mommy get through the days.  I am so grateful for this very special, brave, confident little girl, and am so proud to be her mommy.


Monday, July 29, 2013

Nurturing our marriage, 20 minutes a day

Early on, just a week or two after Zach's stillbirth, I remember sitting in my Dr. of TCM's office and looking at him, shaking, crying.  He asked me how my husband and I were doing?  I said to him, I'm not sure my marriage can survive another round of grief like this.  Not only was I mourning the loss of my precious child and all that comes with that, I was seeing a bleak future because of where I'd been in the past.  I knew the world of darkness and loneliness, and I was certain I was on a one-way trip back.

After James' stillbirth in 2010, we had a very rocky road.  Sure, we loved each other and promised to be by each other's side.  We had our daughter to think of too.  Our vows back in 2002 had in them "for the good and the bad, the happy and the sad."  We were very innocent and naive as to the extent of what those words could mean to us.  You cannot predict the future.  We didn't know at the time that we would face such an uphill battle towards building our family.  We didn't know the struggles we would have with infertility, or having a "preemie" at 33 weeks or having our next baby die and be stillborn.   Before James, we had ups and downs, after James, we had a whole lot more downs.  Grief took over.  I was in darkness for a very long time.  I shut down emotionally with everyone in my life, including my husband.  We existed together, but didn't connect for so long.  We grieved differently, each on our own.  I'm not saying it was always difficult, but more often than not, we were "fighting" to be together. 

In May 2012, we had an all out "say what you feel" kind of argument one night.  It was there that we made a decision together.  We didn't want it to be this way for the rest of our lives, we needed to find a way to make it work, to truly be in this together or we needed to go our separate ways.  We love each other, at that point we'd loved each other for nearly 13 years.  We so badly wanted to make our marriage work.  We agreed that we would give it our all for one more year.  We would be supportive of each other, and really work on us.  At the end of that year, we would re-evaluate. 

It really was a life-changing year in so many ways.  I took myself on a health journey I've never been on before, and really saw changes that I will keep working towards for my lifetime.  We cautiously supported each other, as best we could.  We had bumps in the road, but we had so many successes together too.  By the time we discovered we were expecting Zach, we were at a good place.  My fears throughout my pregnancy were always eased by his words, actions and faith that all would be well.  I believed him.  When Zach died I didn't know what to do, I was so lost and so broken and I didn't want to believe anyone that I would be okay, that we would be okay.  We had lost Zach, and now, our year was up, were we going to lose each other too?

New parents are always subject to unsolicited advice.  Do this, don't do that, how could you think of doing that?  Newly bereaved parents are also recipients of this type of advice.  I remember when James died, and now again when Zach died, how people would say, "make sure to take the time for the two of you", "you two need to be there for each other", "you are going through this together", etc.  So many ways to say it, but none were tangible statements of "how to."

This brings me back to my Dr. of TCM's office...he had a "how to."  A very simple piece of advice:  Take 20 minutes a day with each other.  A real 20 minutes, with no tv, no computer, no phones, no distractions, etc.  Just the two of us, alone, together.  Spend that time talking.  When there is nothing left to talk about, hold each other. 

That piece of advice has changed our lives.  In our most sorrowful time, we are together.  We still do not grieve in the same way, but we talk about it.  We both talk.  We both cry.  We both laugh.  We can just be silent, together.  Each day is different.  It is our "20 minute" time.  We carve it out each and every day.  Believe me, we still have our moments. But we talk about it later. We work through whatever it was, and even if we disagree, we seem to be able to get through it a lot easier.

The amazing part of this 20 minute time?  It carries over throughout our days.  We are more present for each other.  We connect more.  We smile at each other, we hold hands more, we hug more.  We are respecting each other, giving each other the time and space we need.  We are more connected now than we have been in years, if not ever.  We crave our "20 minutes" daily.

This time has become a way for us to work through our grief together, but also, it has become a habit.  It is one we have vowed will become a lifelong habit.  It is a way to honour each other and nurture each other.  I can honestly say that my fear of losing our marriage because of grief is gone.  In a way, grief has given us our marriage back.

Whether you have been thrown into grief like we have been or not, this is the best piece of marriage communication advice I've ever been given.  I had to share our story, in the hopes that it could be helpful for others in their own marriages.  If you are finding yourself "out of sync" with your spouse, give "20 minute time" a try.  In our busy, "connected" world that we live in, sometimes we forget our most important "connection", the one we love. 

Today is my husband's birthday.  I love you with all my heart Chris, Happy Birthday my love!  Yesterday, today, tomorrow and forever, I am so grateful for you and all that you bring to my life.  Thank you for walking this path with me, and believing in us enough to get us to today.  I am proud to be your wife and the mother of your children.  Thank you for taking care of us, and picking up the broken pieces of my heart, and helping glue them back together.



Saturday, July 27, 2013

Stillbirth is still giving birth...

I write this post in the hopes that there is greater understanding of what a mother endures, whether her baby is born breathing or still.  I have been writing this in my head for over three years, since after my first son James' stillbirth.  Three years later, just over a month since my second son Zachary was born still, I feel compelled to share some realities of delivering a baby who is born still.

The biggest reality, a baby born still is still born.

In very real terms, a mom must give birth to her baby, whether they are alive or dead.

What does this mean?

This means that just like any labour and delivery, a woman who has a "stillborn" has laboured and delivered.  She has endured a marathon just as a mother of a baby who breathes air in this world.  Whether she went into labour on her own, or was induced, she faced the same daunting task as those whose babies live.  She endured the contractions, the pain, hard labour, pushing and of giving birth.  The difference between a live birth and a still birth?  These moms did all the same work, but had the additional emotional and mental trauma of knowing that when their baby was born, their baby would not be breathing, their baby would not cry, there would be silence and they would have to say hello and goodbye at the same time.  Many moms deliver their silent babies in maternity wards, whereby the silence in their own rooms is filled with noise from adjacent delivery suites.  They are hearing other moms labour, hearing babies being born crying and hearing celebrations after births. 

When a woman "sign's up" for pregnancy, she is aware that there will be many ups and downs in the weeks and months leading up to delivering her baby.   She is aware that it will require a lot of hard work before and during labour.  She signs up for this job because she is also aware that the reward is the best there is in life.  She will become a mother, either for the first time or all over again, no matter what pregnancy this is for her.  She understands that she will soon have a baby in her arms that is hers.  She has hopes and dreams for her baby from the moment she and her partner decide to conceive.  When discovering she is pregnant she starts to plan for the future, she is a mother and her world is about to change.  I don't mean to exclude partners here either, as both parents experience all of this together.  They are a team and share in the joys and challenges of their pregnancy.

When a baby is born alive, there is no shortage of congratulations.  There are big celebrations and showers of love and acknowledgment that mom did an amazing job of bringing baby into the world.  There are comments such as "well done", "she's beautiful", "he's perfect", "love the name", "so proud of you", you get the point, I could go on and on.  You just have to turn on any source of media this week to see the world in a frenzy of well wishes and comments about a newborn baby in England.  All of these congratulations and celebratory messages are indeed well-deserved and a right of passage into parenthood.  It is a joyful time and it is what we should be doing to welcome a new baby.  I do it too.  And I too received a barage of well wishes when my daughter was born.

Here's the thing: 

Parents of stillborn babies still need to hear from you too.  They too did an amazing job, they too had beautiful babies, they too took the time to give their precious child the perfect name, and they too delivered a perfect baby.  They need to be told how proud you are of them.  So many moms and dads of babies born still don't hear these things.  They aren't regarded as "having given birth".  Instead of hearing what every parent needs to hear, bereaved parents of stillborn babies often hear nothing from many family and friends, or often, hear unintentionally hurtful words and statements. 

I write this for the many bereaved parents of stillborn babies, those we know about, and those we don't.  I write this to celebrate all that they did to bring their precious baby into this world, just to say goodbye.  I am fortunate to have met many bereaved parents in the last month, whose baby's I have met through them.  The strength and courage each has, is truly remarkable. 

On a personal note, I cannot write all the above without acknowledging the support that we have received.  For this support, we are very thankful.  We are grateful for the family and friends that have reached out in their own ways.  Some use words, phone calls, cards, emails, texts, others hugs, time and an ear.  Some have cooked us dinner, cared for our daughter and others have cracked a joke and tried to make us laugh.  We are grateful for the love and encouragement we do receive, and we thank you from the bottom of our hearts in helping us walk this path.

It is my wish that no one else endures a stillbirth, that no other parents have to walk this path.  That is not reality though, because with birth, comes death.  I hope if you are reading this and you are fortunate enough not to belong to this club, that you remember this, so that if in the future, someone you know devastatingly becomes a bereaved parent of a stillborn baby, that you reach out to them. Let them know how sorry you are, but also how proud of them you are.  Acknowledge them as you do any mother who gives birth.  Do not shy away from talking to bereaved parents about their baby.  Just as any parent who has just given birth, they too have a baby to share and a story to tell.





Tuesday, July 23, 2013

23

I've never really not liked a number.  I mean, why would a number be so bad?  How could it cause so much grief?

It can.  And it does.

23.

Just saying it.  Just seeing it.  It causes tears to well in my eyes.  It causes my heart to race a little faster.  It sends my mind swirling.  Crazy.  No, not me, although some surely think it.  Crazy because a simple, two-digit number affects my life so dramatically, every time it comes into it.

Let me explain. 

My first son James, was due on July 23, 2010.  That was the day he was "expected" to make his entrance into this world.  He didn't.  He came far earlier.  He came too soon.  He was born still at 23 weeks, 1 day.

Although, up until last month the number 23 hadn't affected me the way it does now.  I've reached my breaking point with the number 23. 

June 14, 2013.  It was that day that our family's path changed yet again.  It was that shocking day that at a quick visit to the doctor turned our world upside down again.  Walking into that appointment, I was a proud momma.  I was proud of my ability to hold myself together for 23 weeks, anxiety, fears, all in check, all in control.  I had worked hard mentally, emotionally and physically to not go to the "what if" place during my pregnancy.  I prayed every day, and every night.  I spoke to James a lot, I asked him to help me bring his brother into this world safely.  I talked to my little baby boy.  I told him often how proud of him I was that he was growing so well and that he was being so gentle with his mom.  On June 14, I was exactly 23 weeks pregnant.  At the end of my OB's appointment, I laid down for a quick ultrasound, just for reassurance, and to have my little guy wave at me like he did the previous visit.  He did not.  In fact, he didn't move at all.  He had no heartbeat.  23 weeks.  On June 15, I delivered my second son, Zachary, at 23 weeks, 1 day.

So today, when I awoke and saw the date on my alarm clock, I wanted to turn over and not get up.  I wanted to lay there and think of all the ways the number 23 has given me so much grief.  I wanted to just forget today exists.

But it does.  Today, July 23 does exist.  I did get up.  I got up, and went and woke my sleepy 8 year old.  Her first words to me - where is Daddy?  Obviously Daddy is the one that has been the one to greet her in the mornings as of late.  I got ready, I made my daughter her lunch and I drove her to her circus day camp she is attending this week.  I decided I had to embrace today. It exists and I exist.

So, I sit here and ask myself, how do I embrace the number 23?  How do I cope, knowing that every month, there is a 23rd day.  I cannot hide from the number 23.  So, I ask myself, how can I be grateful for the number 23?

First and foremost, I carried my baby boys for 23 weeks.  Without those 23 weeks with each of them, I would never have had a chance to meet them.  James and Zachary have very different stories, but the number 23 is something these brothers have in common.  They both lived within me for the same amount of time.  Forever I am grateful to have my boys, even if I only had them physically with me for 23 weeks.  I got to hold them both in my arms at 23 weeks.  This I am grateful for.

I am very grateful for my sweet, darling niece.  Today she turns 3.  She was born July 23, 2010.  My sister and I were expecting at the same time, our due dates two days apart.  My niece was born on James' due date.  That was a hard day for me back then, knowing James "should" be there that day too.  I am in love with my niece.  I cannot get enough of her!  We don't live in the same city, but whenever we can see her and her two brothers, we do.  She is a smart little cookie, very witty and very set in her ways and just so darn cute!  I am so grateful for her and each of her birthdays.  I believe she has a very special angel cousin watching over her. 

Two of my very closest, dearest, friends were also born on the 23rd of a month.  One June 23, and another October 23.  Without these two amazing women, I'm not sure where I would be, or if I would even be here.  I am so grateful for their friendship, their hearts, their ears that listen to me endlessly when needed, their hugs and their smiles and laughter.  They bring me joy and peace.  They are also both wonderful moms, from whom I've learned so much about parenting.  I get such joy in spending time with them and their children.  They truly are blessings in my life, and I am grateful for them.

23 does exist.  It is a number I dread, but in thinking of the ways I am grateful for it, I am sitting here just a little less anxious about the day.  I don't think I'll ever love the number...but I'll always be grateful for it.

Is there a number you dread?  Have you thought of why you are grateful for it?  It may or may not help you a little...but another way of thinking about it might just be what you need at this moment in time...

Monday, July 22, 2013

Eulogy for my baby boys, born still

An end, and a beginning...or is it that there is no end, and really, no beginning?  I have decided to start writing.  I have always been one to write in a journal, to try and work through whatever life has thrown me.  I stopped writing for a long time.  I couldn't.  I wouldn't.  I have written many books, all in my head.  I've decided it is time to share.  There are so many blogs that I have gone to over the past few years, that have helped me.  I have read words that I truly understand and have spoken so deeply to me.  I hope that in me writing my words, that I too can help others navigate this crazy world of motherhood, whatever that looks like for each individual.

I could think of no other way to start my blog, than to share my eulogy that I wrote and read at my son's Remembrance Service on June 25, 2013.  Their story is my story...

Thank you for joining us today. We are overwhelmed and humbled by all of your support. You have wrapped us in your love and prayers and we really appreciate it. Please bare with me here. I need to share with you our story. We are here today to honour and remember our two little boys, Zachary and James. Please though, accept this as a time to honour and remember your own stories of loss and infertility. I know many of you in this room have gone through your own loss and struggles, some who've graciously shared your stories with me, and some who may not have shared your stories with anyone. This service is for all of us and our babies who left too soon.

Chris and my journey into parenthood starts 11 years back. When we were married, we knew that building our family was our greatest goal. Growing up, I always thought having 2 kids would be ideal, but somewhere, the idea of having a bigger family, with 4 kids running around became my dream. It became clear early on in our marriage that infertility would be something we faced. I have an illness that gives challenges to conceiving. However, that has never held us back from following our dream. 3 years after we were married, our dream of a child came true. Our daughter, Marissa, our angel here on earth came to our family. Her entry into the world is a story in and of itself. Her strength from the day she was born all through her 8 years to date has been truly incredible. She really is a hero in my eyes and heart. She is and has been one of our greatest blessings. Having her only made our dream of a big family more intense. The love we have for her could only grow stronger with adding to our family.

Fast forward 5 years. 5 more years of disappointment and infertility. In the fall of 2009 we discovered that we were finally expecting again. The process had been a long one, tough on both my body and mentally. But our goal had been achieved. We were going to have a baby, a little brother for Marissa. Everything was well with our pregnancy. From the moment I was pregnant, that little guy let me know he was there. I can only imagine his feisty personality, showing his mom who was boss. I had morning sickness every day of that pregnancy. It was not until our 18 week ultrasound that we discovered the devastating news. Something was wrong, and our little boy was not growing as he should. He was too small they said. He most likely won't make it. We could do nothing, but believe and pray that all would be well. We made the choice to carry on with our pregnancy, as our little boy deserved a fighting chance. He fought hard, and tried his best. Unfortunately, his little heart gave out 5 weeks later. He died in my womb at 23 weeks.

Our son, James was born sleeping on March 27, 2010. He was a perfectly formed little boy who joined our family for way too short a time. His loss was devastating and too much for us to bare. We lost ourselves after his loss. We retreated and closed ourselves off from the rest of the world. We couldn't let others in and felt we needed to grieve on our own. Me moreso than Chris. For almost 2 years I spiralled and was in a place of darkness. There are a few of you in this room who without you, I may not be here today to share our story. I, we thank you for not giving up on me and helping me through my darkness. James was so tiny, but a perfect precious little boy.

After much soul searching, we knew our family wasn't complete. We knew it would be difficult, but we also knew that we were not ready to let go of our hopes and dreams for our family that we had been trying to build for almost 10 years. In the fall of 2011 we again started fertility treatments. What worked to bring us Marissa, didn't work this time. What worked to bring us James, didn't work this time. It was April 2012 when we sat in our fertilty specialist's office where she told us that it was likely not possible for us to ever have another child.

I started to spiral again. I could not believe what she had said. At that point, I had to make a choice. I had to give in and believe what she said, or I had to find another route. Really it wasn't a choice, we truly believed our family wasn't complete. But we also knew, we could not continue the same path, and continue using fertility drugs that had wreaked havoc on my body and mind for almost 10 years.

In June 2012 I walked into the office of the most amazing medical professional, who has helped me in so many ways over this past year. Where western medicine told me it was impossible, my Doctor of TCM, told me it was possible. I have worked with him for just over a year now. Through his guidance and support, and an understanding of my underlying illness, truly incredible things have happened in my life. First and foremost, acceptance of where I am at. I have also truly felt happiness for the first time in many years. He made no promises, but gave hope. When at the end of January we discovered we were pregnant, it was a total shock and really I had a hard time believing it. This was our first natural pregnancy.

These past six months really have been a textbook pregnancy. All has been well. I have been monitored closely by my incredible team of doctors. Every one of them were so happy with how well it was going. I must admit, I was so nervous to even talk about the pregnancy. I knew all was well, and I just needed to get through these months ahead. Where James was a feisty little guy who let me know daily he was there, this little guy, Zachary had a very content personality. He seemed happy where he was, and never gave me any trouble as far as morning sickness, or uncomfortableness. He grew as he was supposed to. All his tests that were run in utero were all good, some doctor's even using the word perfect. By about 20 weeks, I relaxed a bit, and started to truly feel the joy of my pregnancy and the excitement of what it meant to our family. I felt Zach's butterfly movements, and knew he was safe and sound inside of me...I was thinking he would love gymnastics as much as his big sister does.

Being monitored closely, I had weekly appointments with one doctor or another. I had constant reassurance that things were going well. It was on Friday June 14, at 23 weeks, when things went terribly wrong. I had made an appointment to go get a prescription. As with all my appointments, we went to do a quick ultrasound at the end, just to see him and say a quick hello. It was there in the doctor's office where we saw no heartbeat. I didn't and couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true. I was sent to Women's to use their high tech scanner. This is where Chris met me and it was confirmed. Our baby had died. Our perfect little boy, who had been growing and thriving so well wasn't with us anymore. They do not know at this point why his heart stopped.

Needless to say, the next little bit was a time of shock and still is. Whereas with James we had 5 weeks of time to prepare for this news, with Zachary, there was no warning. In an instant our lives have changed again.

After a long induction and labour, our precious, sweet angel Zachary was born still just after 3pm on Saturday June 15. He was exactly the size he was supposed to be, and a very beautiful little boy. Marissa had picked the name Zachary, and we are so thankful she gave him the perfect name. She was able to come to the hospital and meet her little brother. Eventhough those were again some of the hardest moments of our lives, they were also very sweet. To watch a big sister hold her little brother and play with his tiny little fingers and stroke his face made my heart melt. When James was born, we remained at the hospital for only a few hours. I was able to hold him and meet him, but said goodbye to him very shortly after. With Zachary, we made another choice. I was staying at the hospital over night. I was able to have Zachary in my room with me overnight. It was me and him. We got to know each other that night, a night I will never forget. I was able to have Zach in a bassinette right beside me. I would spend time holding him, cuddling him, singing to him and telling him stories I needed him to hear. I was able to sleep knowing he was beside me. So I would sleep for a few hours and cuddle for a few hours. Back and forth all night. It was a night I have not had with any of my kids but Zach. I always felt I missed that with Marissa, as I didn't have her beside me the night she was born...not for two weeks until she left the NICU. So this time I had with Zach was truly a blessing. In the morning, I knew I had to say goodbye. Eventhough it was one short night, I will have that memory of my peaceful baby all my life.
I am a mother who has given birth three times. We are blessed to have our Marissa and to have our two angel boys in our hearts, watching over and taking care of our family.
Thank you for being here. We will need you in the weeks and months to come. We know time will heal, but want you to know we welcome your love and assistance.
In closing, I want to read a short passage from one of Marissa and my favourite author's, Robert Munsch, from his book I'll Love you Forever:

A mother held her new baby and very slowly rocked him back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. And while she held him, she sang:
I'll love you forever,
 

I'll like you for always,
 

As long as I'm living
 

my baby you'll be.