Wow. Six years old you should be. It is so hard to believe that six years ago today I got to hold you in my arms. Six years ago today I got to meet you and see how beautiful you were. I love you just as much today as I did then.
Today we did some things around town to try to leave a mark on the world in your honour. To try to make other people smile because you existed. Your sister was so excited to hand out flowers and chocolates to strangers. I'm not sure why she picked the people that she did, but she scoured the stores to find the perfect people to give them to. When people asked why she was giving them the flowers she proudly (yet quietly and shyly) told them 'Because it's Benjamin's birthday". She was so proud to do it for you. Jackson didn't hand any out, but he was still excited to do it for you. He's just too shy. Your baby brother would have been happier just eating all the chocolates himself, lol! They all know about you and some days they miss you so much. It's amazing to me that they can miss you so much even though they never got to actually meet you. Maybe they miss the idea of you? Nonetheless, the fact that they miss their brother makes me sad and happy all at the same time.
I know I miss you. I miss the six year old boy I should have demanding to have a certain toy, certain dinner, certain cake. I say 'demanding' because it's what you should do! It's your day. Your day to choose what to do, where to go, what to eat. I also miss the baby I grew inside of me and the baby I held and kissed and never wanted to let go. I miss you so much that my arms actually feel empty and my heart actually aches. That feeling will never go away. And I really don't want it to. If it goes away then it means I don't miss you. I can't imagine that ever being true. To love you is to miss you. And baby boy, I love you so much.
I was unpacking some boxes the other day and came across the blanket you were wrapped in. It hurt so much to find it in the bottom of a box, folded so neatly. It should have been on your bed, torn and faded and worn out. It should have that funky smell of a prized blankey. It shouldn't have crease marks from being folded and stored away because it's too sad to look at.
Six years. And yet, just yesterday.
Mommy loves you Bud.
I always will.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Five years ago
Wow. It's almost been five years since Benjamin was born. This time of year is always hard, understandably I think. It starts around Halloween when the poppies start coming out for Remembrance Day. The sight of those little red flowers fills me with a strange mix of happiness and despair. I'm happy because it makes me think of him, and I'm at the point now where I can think of him happily more than I think of him with tears. But also despair because soon it's another anniversary of the day we had to say goodbye.
November 8th, 2008 was my last day of naive excitement. The last day of my life that I believed I was meant to birth happy healthy babies. Jackson's pregnancy and birth were amazing. My doctor told me I was meant to birth babies. I believed her. I believed that my body was capable of wonderful, amazing things. Then November 9th, 2008 happened. Suddenly I was slapped with the realization that things can go terribly wrong in the blink of an eye. A baby that is wanted, loved and anticipated with such joy can just die. No warning, no premonition, no tiny sniggly little doubt that it would all turn out well. I would go from worrying about how much I could love this baby and Jackson all at the same time, to wondering how I would ever feel joy again. How I would ever believe in the good of the future.
Then November 11th, 2008 happened. It was time to give birth to this little being that had given me such joy and hope and that had instantly changed my life forever. To this day I remember the utter panic and disbelief that this was about to occur. I remember begging my doctor, the nurses, Brian, to make this not real. Don't let him come out. Because once he came out then it was true. As long as he was nestled in my womb I could believe it wasn't true. I didn't want to give him up. I wanted to hold him with me forever.
Then he was born. And Oh my God he was beautiful. I wasn't prepared for how perfect he would look. He was a full fledged baby. He looked like Jackson. And I think my heart might have exploded a little bit. It was so painful. The mixture of heart wrenching despair and profound joy. Here he was. Here was our Benjamin! I wanted more than anything in the world to hear his cry, feel him nursing, see his arms startle up, smell his perfect baby smell. I wanted him to live. I would have given anything to have that happen. Seeing your baby lying there motionless is the worst sight in the world. I tried to look past that and just marvel in the fact that he was out, that we could see him, that we knew he was a boy now. Naturally that was hard, but at the same time you cannot ignore that mother's love. I really was able to see past all of that and just be in awe of this other little being we had created. And he was perfect.
Because it was Remembrance Day, and because he was born before 11am, we were alone in the room with him when the moment of silence came on the intercom. It was the hardest moment. Harder than the moment of his birth. I was laying in that bed watching the man I love holding our still baby. My heart broke again. Remembrance Day is forever changed for me.
So as his fifth birthday comes I am asking people to do a Random Act of Kindness again in his honour. I want surprise smiles to light up the world since his smile never got to. Jackson and Lexi understand who Benjamin is and I want to be able to tell them throughout the day that his life mattered, that he changed the world, that people are celebrating his birthday. As we eat his birthday cake without any forks that night I want them to know that their brother was thought of by many people. I want it to be a happy day for them. I don't want them to think of him with tears. I know I'm going to try not to. So please comment on here, send me a text, send me an email, facebook message, or whatever. But please let me know what you have done so I can let them know. They are excited for his birthday and I want it to be special for them. Thank you.
November 8th, 2008 was my last day of naive excitement. The last day of my life that I believed I was meant to birth happy healthy babies. Jackson's pregnancy and birth were amazing. My doctor told me I was meant to birth babies. I believed her. I believed that my body was capable of wonderful, amazing things. Then November 9th, 2008 happened. Suddenly I was slapped with the realization that things can go terribly wrong in the blink of an eye. A baby that is wanted, loved and anticipated with such joy can just die. No warning, no premonition, no tiny sniggly little doubt that it would all turn out well. I would go from worrying about how much I could love this baby and Jackson all at the same time, to wondering how I would ever feel joy again. How I would ever believe in the good of the future.
Then November 11th, 2008 happened. It was time to give birth to this little being that had given me such joy and hope and that had instantly changed my life forever. To this day I remember the utter panic and disbelief that this was about to occur. I remember begging my doctor, the nurses, Brian, to make this not real. Don't let him come out. Because once he came out then it was true. As long as he was nestled in my womb I could believe it wasn't true. I didn't want to give him up. I wanted to hold him with me forever.
Then he was born. And Oh my God he was beautiful. I wasn't prepared for how perfect he would look. He was a full fledged baby. He looked like Jackson. And I think my heart might have exploded a little bit. It was so painful. The mixture of heart wrenching despair and profound joy. Here he was. Here was our Benjamin! I wanted more than anything in the world to hear his cry, feel him nursing, see his arms startle up, smell his perfect baby smell. I wanted him to live. I would have given anything to have that happen. Seeing your baby lying there motionless is the worst sight in the world. I tried to look past that and just marvel in the fact that he was out, that we could see him, that we knew he was a boy now. Naturally that was hard, but at the same time you cannot ignore that mother's love. I really was able to see past all of that and just be in awe of this other little being we had created. And he was perfect.
Because it was Remembrance Day, and because he was born before 11am, we were alone in the room with him when the moment of silence came on the intercom. It was the hardest moment. Harder than the moment of his birth. I was laying in that bed watching the man I love holding our still baby. My heart broke again. Remembrance Day is forever changed for me.
So as his fifth birthday comes I am asking people to do a Random Act of Kindness again in his honour. I want surprise smiles to light up the world since his smile never got to. Jackson and Lexi understand who Benjamin is and I want to be able to tell them throughout the day that his life mattered, that he changed the world, that people are celebrating his birthday. As we eat his birthday cake without any forks that night I want them to know that their brother was thought of by many people. I want it to be a happy day for them. I don't want them to think of him with tears. I know I'm going to try not to. So please comment on here, send me a text, send me an email, facebook message, or whatever. But please let me know what you have done so I can let them know. They are excited for his birthday and I want it to be special for them. Thank you.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Four years ago
Four years ago today was the worst day of my life.
Four years ago today we found out Benjamin had died.
Four years ago today was all about his death and the heartbreaking loss.
Four years ago today my life changed forever.
Four years ago today I found out I would have to birth my dead baby.
Four years ago today I found out what true despair felt like.
Four years ago today.
Four.
How in the hell did that happen?
Four years ago today we found out Benjamin had died.
Four years ago today was all about his death and the heartbreaking loss.
Four years ago today my life changed forever.
Four years ago today I found out I would have to birth my dead baby.
Four years ago today I found out what true despair felt like.
Four years ago today.
Four.
How in the hell did that happen?
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Peanut is out!!
Peanut was born on Friday, October 12th at 12:19pm. We only had 4 requests during the c-section.
1. Leave the cord long so that Brian could trim it (he cut the cord for Jackson and Benjamin and trimmed it for Lexi).
2. Lower the drape when they pull the baby out so that we could both see him/her be born (the c-section took place in the main OR so there was no mirror available).
3. Don't announce the gender, let us see and announce it ourselves.
4. Make the baby cry right away. Even if they had to poke it and annoy the bejeepers out of it, we had to hear a cry immediately. When Lexi was born she was far too quiet and it kinda scared me.
So at 12:18 they lowered the drape. At 12:19 we got to see those perfect little boy bits and announce that we had another SON!! A loud, screaming, glorious son. He was 8 pounds 2 ounces and 20" of perfect baby.
The c-section went well with absolutely no complications. We were taken to recovery and then our room in the mother babe unit. Jackson, Lexi and Aunt Sarah were able to come and visit that afternoon. It was wonderful seeing all the kids together. I think everyone was surprised that Peanut was a boy (except me, my mom and Brian's mom, we all thought he would be a boy). We debated over his name for the rest of that day and most of Saturday. His name is Thomas Ross. His nickname is still Peanut (I have to admit Lexi and I mostly call him Peanut, lol). I'm having a hard time remembering that his name is Thomas. It does not come naturally to me.
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The amazing part? Peanut did not have jaundice. Yep, you read that right. OUR baby did not have jaundice! Did not need phototherapy. Did not need to visit the NICU. We got to go home TWO days later!! We honestly felt like it was all too good to be true and we had to speed away from the hospital before they realized their mistake and admitted him back to the NICU.
But now, 12 days later and he is still perfect. Still not yellow. Still healthy and loud. It still seems surreal.
So we have another son. When they lowered the drape and I got to see that he was a boy I bawled. I think it alarmed Brian and he asked me if it was happy or sad tears. I'm still not sure. If I think about it too much I start to well up again. I'm happy that he is a boy, but at the same time it's hard. When I try to think of his name the first name that pops into my mind is Benjamin. Then William (Benjamin's middle name). I know it's not him (obviously) but those are the names that come to mind.
It's kind of bittersweet that he is a boy. I'm happy because I love having boys. There is no bond like that between a mother and her son. I love Lexi to pieces but she is totally a Daddy's girl and Jackson is a Momma's boy. It works for us. Now we have another little boy to love. Hopefully I'll get another Momma's boy. I'm sad that he's a boy because I know I'll compare him to how I imagine Benjamin to have been. I didn't do that with Lexi because the comparison was hard since she was a girl. I never imagined Benjamin wearing all her frilly pink clothes. I did imagine him wearing Jackson's hand me downs. I imagined him playing with Jackson's trucks and trains (Lexi did too, but not as much). I imagined the brother bond between Jackson and Benjamin and Jackson teaching Benjamin how to do all the crazy boy stuff. Obviously it's been similar to the brother/sister bond that I've seen develop between Jackson and Lexi, but it's still not the same. Now I'll see all of that come to life. I'll see Thomas be our son, grow up with Jackson's hand me downs, develop a brother bond with him. I'll see Lexi with two brothers protecting her, in person not just in spirit. It is just bittersweet and hard to accurately explain.
But he will NOT be the child in the shadows. He will not be the replacement. The last chance for the son we lost. He is Thomas (or Peanut). He is our forth child. Our third son. He is loved and adored for the splendid little boy that he is. For being himself. And at that, he is perfect.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Update on Peanut
Yeah, I know, I know. An update every few months is not good enough! I'm finding it hard to keep things updated lately. Between the two kids, kindergarten now, a new city, pregnancy issues (quite bad carpal tunnel among other things) I just don't make the time. But, here goes!
I am now 38 weeks and 2 days. The pregnancy is going well. Peanut is doing well, growing along beautifully. We still don't know if Peanut is a boy or a girl. It's been hard not finding out since I've been going for weekly ultrasounds since 33 weeks! Why, you ask? Well because pregnancy cannot be straight forward for me. At my 22 week ultrasound they found out that Peanut has a Velamentous Cord Insertion. I had no idea what that was as I had never heard of it before (duh, because it's fairly rare). Geesh!! Basically, it means that the umbilical cord does not attach to the placenta properly, instead of the three vessels of the cord entering the middle of the placenta together they enter kind of separately and not in the middle. This means they are exposed in a way they shouldn't be. It's a riskier pregnancy and riskier delivery. The cord can rupture, the baby can bleed out. All sorts of scary things. But, I've had months to stress about it and many many ultrasounds and high-risk OB appointments and perinatologist appointments. Everyone keeps assuring me things are good. I am having a scheduled c-section just to avoid risks (Lexi was also a c-section). After Benjamin I just cannot take any unnecessary risks.
So this time next week I will be preparing to meet my baby. Peanut will be born on October 12th just after 12:30pm. Assuming s/he doesn't have plans of her/his own and come before that (which I am not-so-secretly hoping for).
I am surprisingly calm about this. I don't have the big fears that Peanut will die. Of course it's in the back of my mind, and I even went to L&D on Monday night convinced something was wrong (everything was perfect tho). But all in all, I feel things will turn out well. Maybe because the pregnancy has been slightly horrible I feel that the birth has to go well? I don't know. All I know is I cannot do this again. Peanut will be our last baby. I never thought I would feel that way; feel that I know when I am done being pregnant and birthing babies. But let me tell you, this has been a LONG nine months and I know I cannot do it again. I love feeling Peanut moving around in there and love having babies, but four is my limit.
I promise to let you all know when Peanut is here!
I am now 38 weeks and 2 days. The pregnancy is going well. Peanut is doing well, growing along beautifully. We still don't know if Peanut is a boy or a girl. It's been hard not finding out since I've been going for weekly ultrasounds since 33 weeks! Why, you ask? Well because pregnancy cannot be straight forward for me. At my 22 week ultrasound they found out that Peanut has a Velamentous Cord Insertion. I had no idea what that was as I had never heard of it before (duh, because it's fairly rare). Geesh!! Basically, it means that the umbilical cord does not attach to the placenta properly, instead of the three vessels of the cord entering the middle of the placenta together they enter kind of separately and not in the middle. This means they are exposed in a way they shouldn't be. It's a riskier pregnancy and riskier delivery. The cord can rupture, the baby can bleed out. All sorts of scary things. But, I've had months to stress about it and many many ultrasounds and high-risk OB appointments and perinatologist appointments. Everyone keeps assuring me things are good. I am having a scheduled c-section just to avoid risks (Lexi was also a c-section). After Benjamin I just cannot take any unnecessary risks.
So this time next week I will be preparing to meet my baby. Peanut will be born on October 12th just after 12:30pm. Assuming s/he doesn't have plans of her/his own and come before that (which I am not-so-secretly hoping for).
I am surprisingly calm about this. I don't have the big fears that Peanut will die. Of course it's in the back of my mind, and I even went to L&D on Monday night convinced something was wrong (everything was perfect tho). But all in all, I feel things will turn out well. Maybe because the pregnancy has been slightly horrible I feel that the birth has to go well? I don't know. All I know is I cannot do this again. Peanut will be our last baby. I never thought I would feel that way; feel that I know when I am done being pregnant and birthing babies. But let me tell you, this has been a LONG nine months and I know I cannot do it again. I love feeling Peanut moving around in there and love having babies, but four is my limit.
I promise to let you all know when Peanut is here!
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
oh yeah...
By the way... I'm pregnant again. Geesh!! I wrote a post forever ago saying this but never finished it or published it, lol! And we moved from BC to Alberta... Lots of changes!
I am 22 weeks (tomorrow). I'm due October 17th and we will be waiting until then to find out if we will have another son or daughter. I'm excited but nervous.
Just thought I should explain that last post a little bit...
I am 22 weeks (tomorrow). I'm due October 17th and we will be waiting until then to find out if we will have another son or daughter. I'm excited but nervous.
Just thought I should explain that last post a little bit...
Jackson and Peanut
Jackson is excited for Peanut to be born. He asks me often when that is going to happen. He doesn't understand the concept of months yet. So when I tell him Peanut will be born in 4 months he thinks I mean 4 days and excitedly remarks "that's not very long at all!". Then I have to burst his bubble and tell him it's about 120 days. Poor kid, lol!
Last night we were lying in his bed chatting. He asked me if I was going to die. I told him I had no plans of dying any time soon and he didn't need to worry about that. Then he asked me if Peanut was going to die. I told him that I hoped not and we had no reason to think he would. He said he was worried about Peanut dying because Benjamin died. Do you hear that sound? That's the sound of my heart breaking a little bit. We chatted a bit about how I hoped that wouldn't happen and that he didn't need to worry about that, that likely Peanut would be born fine and healthy. All the things I know should be true but have a hard time believing myself. How do you adequately reassure a kid when you have doubts yourself?
Last night Brian felt Peanut move for the first time (I'm 22 weeks tomorrow). I am feeling consistent movement now but it's still somewhat light so I was surprised that he was able to feel it so well. I love this part of pregnancy. I go for another ultrasound today and just booked my first maternity doctor appointment here in our new city for next week. So far things are going well. No reason to think there is any cause for concern. That's not reassuring to me though.
Last night we were lying in his bed chatting. He asked me if I was going to die. I told him I had no plans of dying any time soon and he didn't need to worry about that. Then he asked me if Peanut was going to die. I told him that I hoped not and we had no reason to think he would. He said he was worried about Peanut dying because Benjamin died. Do you hear that sound? That's the sound of my heart breaking a little bit. We chatted a bit about how I hoped that wouldn't happen and that he didn't need to worry about that, that likely Peanut would be born fine and healthy. All the things I know should be true but have a hard time believing myself. How do you adequately reassure a kid when you have doubts yourself?
Last night Brian felt Peanut move for the first time (I'm 22 weeks tomorrow). I am feeling consistent movement now but it's still somewhat light so I was surprised that he was able to feel it so well. I love this part of pregnancy. I go for another ultrasound today and just booked my first maternity doctor appointment here in our new city for next week. So far things are going well. No reason to think there is any cause for concern. That's not reassuring to me though.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Statistics can kiss my ass
I am so sick of statistics. Once you've been on the losing side of statistics they really don't mean much. People that have never (or hardly ever) been on the losing side take comfort in statistics. "The chances of x happening are only 0.1%" Oh phawoo, we don't have to worry then! But once you've been that slim chance, you just have this dreadful feeling deep down that that slim chance will most likely happen to you. Why wouldn't it? Bad things happen to good people.
It's getting a bit ridiculous now tho. For the most part I am lucky. My two kids are healthy (for the most part) and happy. We have made changes in our lives that will allow us to live more comfortably and with less stress. We have great family and friends that love and support us. Our lives are good.
But really? Seriously? For a while I'd like to just be on the good side. The side that doesn't involve dread and sick feelings when you hear the word "percentage" or "chance" or "don't worry". I want to hear a doctor say that it's most likely not x, and actually believe them. Not think "Ha, we'll prove them wrong now won't we?" I want the good luck. I'm sick of being rare, unlikely, 'the special case', the slim chance. I just want normal.
I was recently reading over the medical records I received for myself and the three kids. Recent health news caused me to pull them out again, searching for numbers, facts, notes. It all just made me mad. Well, maybe not mad (some stuff definitely made me mad) but more annoyed or frustrated. Every kid we have had has had at least one 'slim chance' happen to them. At least one. At least. And the oldest kid is only four! In four years we've had countless numbers of slim chances, special cases, unlikeliness. BAH!!!
I won't get into all the past rare-case, slim-chance, unlikely things we've had the misfortune to prove the doctors wrong on. I'm not complaining. I don't mean this as a whoa is me type of post. I know we're lucky. We are lucky to have two bundles of energy and joy in our lives. We are lucky to have money coming in, love in our lives, a roof over our heads. Even tho we've had all these misfortunes I wouldn't change much. It makes us who we are, who our kids are. Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and all that. (although I do sort of hate that cliche right now, since one of the rare-cases did actually kill a little bean I love very much). I am merely venting since we've recently had yet another rare-case diagnosis.
This time it's Lexi. Or rather, this time it is Lexi again. As a baby she had silent reflux (like normal reflux only she never spat up, instead she swallowed it back down, burned on the way up and burned on the way down). Silent reflux is fairly rare; none of our regular doctors even knew what it was. We got a referral to our pediatrician who immediately recognized it as a milk-protein allergy (reflux+eczema+irritability+diarrhea). She outgrew this by the time she was about 15 months (whoo hoo!). Statistics say that 2-3% of babies in developed countries will have a milk-protein allergy. So she outgrew that around January 2011, becoming 'normal'; not one of the 2-3% of kids with a medical diagnosis. Phawoo. Then in the beginning of March she became constipated. A few medical professionals told us it may be a milk allergy or sensitivity (to which I replied "you bite your tongue!"). Nothing worked with the constipation. She's been on laxatives, in one dose or another, for the last 7 months, before that we tried dietary changes. Nothing has been working. Every couple of days she would be in immense pain as she tried to do one of the most basic bodily functions. It just was not right. Then lately we were slightly concerned about her size since she is very big for her age and has drastically moved up on the growth charts, not even staying on any sort of curve. Add to that the fact that she often will just lay down on the floor with her blankie. At first I thought she was just taking a break to snuggle with her most loved possession. Then I started thinking it may be a little odd. So off we went to the pediatrician.
Turns out the constipation, paired with the growth, paired with the fatigue triggered some red flags with our doctor and she sent Lexi for some blood work. After 3 vials of blood were taken and analyzed we have found out that Lexi has Acquired Hypothyroidism. So we're back to the rare case. Hypothyroidism affects about 3% of the general population. And of that the majority are older adults, it is fairly uncommon in children. So what does this mean for Lexi? It means daily medication. It means routine blood work to check her hormone levels. It means a very real possibility of a lifetime of medication and blood work. There is a chance that she could outgrow it in the next few years. It's unlikely, but there is a chance. Please let this be our rare, unlikely, slim chance. So far she's outgrown her silent reflux and her milk-protein allergy. Let's hope she does it again. Let's be on the winning side of the statistics. Please?
It's getting a bit ridiculous now tho. For the most part I am lucky. My two kids are healthy (for the most part) and happy. We have made changes in our lives that will allow us to live more comfortably and with less stress. We have great family and friends that love and support us. Our lives are good.
But really? Seriously? For a while I'd like to just be on the good side. The side that doesn't involve dread and sick feelings when you hear the word "percentage" or "chance" or "don't worry". I want to hear a doctor say that it's most likely not x, and actually believe them. Not think "Ha, we'll prove them wrong now won't we?" I want the good luck. I'm sick of being rare, unlikely, 'the special case', the slim chance. I just want normal.
I was recently reading over the medical records I received for myself and the three kids. Recent health news caused me to pull them out again, searching for numbers, facts, notes. It all just made me mad. Well, maybe not mad (some stuff definitely made me mad) but more annoyed or frustrated. Every kid we have had has had at least one 'slim chance' happen to them. At least one. At least. And the oldest kid is only four! In four years we've had countless numbers of slim chances, special cases, unlikeliness. BAH!!!
I won't get into all the past rare-case, slim-chance, unlikely things we've had the misfortune to prove the doctors wrong on. I'm not complaining. I don't mean this as a whoa is me type of post. I know we're lucky. We are lucky to have two bundles of energy and joy in our lives. We are lucky to have money coming in, love in our lives, a roof over our heads. Even tho we've had all these misfortunes I wouldn't change much. It makes us who we are, who our kids are. Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and all that. (although I do sort of hate that cliche right now, since one of the rare-cases did actually kill a little bean I love very much). I am merely venting since we've recently had yet another rare-case diagnosis.
This time it's Lexi. Or rather, this time it is Lexi again. As a baby she had silent reflux (like normal reflux only she never spat up, instead she swallowed it back down, burned on the way up and burned on the way down). Silent reflux is fairly rare; none of our regular doctors even knew what it was. We got a referral to our pediatrician who immediately recognized it as a milk-protein allergy (reflux+eczema+irritability+diarrhea). She outgrew this by the time she was about 15 months (whoo hoo!). Statistics say that 2-3% of babies in developed countries will have a milk-protein allergy. So she outgrew that around January 2011, becoming 'normal'; not one of the 2-3% of kids with a medical diagnosis. Phawoo. Then in the beginning of March she became constipated. A few medical professionals told us it may be a milk allergy or sensitivity (to which I replied "you bite your tongue!"). Nothing worked with the constipation. She's been on laxatives, in one dose or another, for the last 7 months, before that we tried dietary changes. Nothing has been working. Every couple of days she would be in immense pain as she tried to do one of the most basic bodily functions. It just was not right. Then lately we were slightly concerned about her size since she is very big for her age and has drastically moved up on the growth charts, not even staying on any sort of curve. Add to that the fact that she often will just lay down on the floor with her blankie. At first I thought she was just taking a break to snuggle with her most loved possession. Then I started thinking it may be a little odd. So off we went to the pediatrician.
Turns out the constipation, paired with the growth, paired with the fatigue triggered some red flags with our doctor and she sent Lexi for some blood work. After 3 vials of blood were taken and analyzed we have found out that Lexi has Acquired Hypothyroidism. So we're back to the rare case. Hypothyroidism affects about 3% of the general population. And of that the majority are older adults, it is fairly uncommon in children. So what does this mean for Lexi? It means daily medication. It means routine blood work to check her hormone levels. It means a very real possibility of a lifetime of medication and blood work. There is a chance that she could outgrow it in the next few years. It's unlikely, but there is a chance. Please let this be our rare, unlikely, slim chance. So far she's outgrown her silent reflux and her milk-protein allergy. Let's hope she does it again. Let's be on the winning side of the statistics. Please?
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Happy Birthday Little Man
Benjamin,
This is how it should be: You should be waking up tomorrow to find the bathroom mirror decorated with drawings of everything you love. You should be having pancakes, or french toast, or bacon and eggs, or Lucky Charms; whatever is your most favorite breakfast. You should be beaming with excitement as you pick your favorite outfit to wear on this day, your day, your special day. You should be planning out what we do today, thinking of all the most fun things you can imagine. We should be planning your birthday party, which would probably be on Saturday or Sunday instead so that we can spend this day, your day, as just a family doing whatever your little heart desires. We should have your favorite dinner and eat a cake that I slaved over to make perfect for you. You should be blowing out the candles and making a great big three year old wish. You should be eagerly ripping into the paper that is hiding the present that we picked out specially for you from a list I'm sure you would have told us. You should be getting extra hugs, cuddles and kisses on this day, your day. And it would have been an extra special day since this year all your numbers match. Today, your birthday, is 11/11/11. All number 1's. We would have played up on that big time.
But it will not be like that. There will be no special breakfast, who knows what would have been your favorite, you never got a chance to find out. There will be no favorite outfit, you never got to wear any clothes we bought for you. You are not here to tell us what is the most fun thing to do. You never got a chance to make any friends, so there will be no party. I cannot make you a cake, it's just too hard to make one without imagining what should be. There is no favorite dinner, no presents, no list of favorites. There is no you. And, baby boy, I am so sad about that. Three years have passed and this year is just as hard as every one before it. I miss you. I miss you so much. I don't want other people here on this day, your day. I want you here. I want to feel your weight. I want to kiss your sweet forehead, touch your beautiful dark hair. I want to tell you I love you. I want to just be with you, be happy with you. I want to hear you laugh. Hear you call me Mommy. See you smile and hold my hand. I want to know you as a three year old, not just have to imagine it.
I don't want to be sad on your birthday honeybun. I want to think of you with a smile. Think about how happy you made me, how much you changed me, all the good you have caused in this world. I don't want to be sad when I think about you. But this year I'm just sad. You are the missing piece of our family. The missing piece of my heart.
But I'll try to be happy. Your brother is so excited about your birthday. He was excited all week to give up the little treats we made for everyone to tell them about you. He is so excited to celebrate your birthday, to have your cake and blow out your candles. He knows who you are. He says he misses you and loves you. I don't think he really understands fully, but he knows how special you are. One day he'll fully understand. So will your baby sister. If I had my way every single person I meet will know who you are. And that makes me sad again. They shouldn't have to know of you, or know who you were. I so desperately want everyone to know you. Know the little three year old spitfire that I'm sure you would be.
I love you. I always will. Not a day goes by that you are not in my thoughts. Not a second goes by that you are not in my heart.
With more love than I ever thought possible,
Mommy
This is how it should be: You should be waking up tomorrow to find the bathroom mirror decorated with drawings of everything you love. You should be having pancakes, or french toast, or bacon and eggs, or Lucky Charms; whatever is your most favorite breakfast. You should be beaming with excitement as you pick your favorite outfit to wear on this day, your day, your special day. You should be planning out what we do today, thinking of all the most fun things you can imagine. We should be planning your birthday party, which would probably be on Saturday or Sunday instead so that we can spend this day, your day, as just a family doing whatever your little heart desires. We should have your favorite dinner and eat a cake that I slaved over to make perfect for you. You should be blowing out the candles and making a great big three year old wish. You should be eagerly ripping into the paper that is hiding the present that we picked out specially for you from a list I'm sure you would have told us. You should be getting extra hugs, cuddles and kisses on this day, your day. And it would have been an extra special day since this year all your numbers match. Today, your birthday, is 11/11/11. All number 1's. We would have played up on that big time.
But it will not be like that. There will be no special breakfast, who knows what would have been your favorite, you never got a chance to find out. There will be no favorite outfit, you never got to wear any clothes we bought for you. You are not here to tell us what is the most fun thing to do. You never got a chance to make any friends, so there will be no party. I cannot make you a cake, it's just too hard to make one without imagining what should be. There is no favorite dinner, no presents, no list of favorites. There is no you. And, baby boy, I am so sad about that. Three years have passed and this year is just as hard as every one before it. I miss you. I miss you so much. I don't want other people here on this day, your day. I want you here. I want to feel your weight. I want to kiss your sweet forehead, touch your beautiful dark hair. I want to tell you I love you. I want to just be with you, be happy with you. I want to hear you laugh. Hear you call me Mommy. See you smile and hold my hand. I want to know you as a three year old, not just have to imagine it.
I don't want to be sad on your birthday honeybun. I want to think of you with a smile. Think about how happy you made me, how much you changed me, all the good you have caused in this world. I don't want to be sad when I think about you. But this year I'm just sad. You are the missing piece of our family. The missing piece of my heart.
But I'll try to be happy. Your brother is so excited about your birthday. He was excited all week to give up the little treats we made for everyone to tell them about you. He is so excited to celebrate your birthday, to have your cake and blow out your candles. He knows who you are. He says he misses you and loves you. I don't think he really understands fully, but he knows how special you are. One day he'll fully understand. So will your baby sister. If I had my way every single person I meet will know who you are. And that makes me sad again. They shouldn't have to know of you, or know who you were. I so desperately want everyone to know you. Know the little three year old spitfire that I'm sure you would be.
I love you. I always will. Not a day goes by that you are not in my thoughts. Not a second goes by that you are not in my heart.
With more love than I ever thought possible,
Mommy
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Random Acts of Kindness
This Friday, November 11th 2011, should be Benjamin's third birthday. I cannot believe it has been three years since I held my beautiful baby boy for the first and last time. Three years. So much has changed in the last three years, but one thing has stayed constant; my love for him. Not a day goes by that I do not think about him. A while ago I was chatting with a friend and somehow the topic turned to Benjamin. My friend commented that every time I talk about him I subconsciously start playing with my necklace. Since her comment I have noticed that I do, in fact, do that. My necklace has become such an important part of me. Jackson and Lexi know that it is special to me and that it, somehow, is special to Benjamin. They both play with it a lot. It makes me happy that, even though they don't realize it, every time they touch my necklace they are connecting with Benjamin.
Anyways, that was off topic! Once again this year I am asking everyone to do a random act of kindness on Benjamin's birthday, in his honour. It can be a small act or a large act. An act toward someone you know or someone you don't know. It can be a monetary gesture or free kind gesture. I don't care what you do, as long as you somehow make another person's life a little easier or happier for even just a second. As long as you make someone smile in Benjamin's honour it will make this difficult day a little easier for my little family. The fact that we cannot see Benjamin's sweet little face break out into a giant smile as he celebrates his special day is hard for us. Not being able to watch him blow out the candles on his cake, a cake that he requested and I spent hours slaving over to make it perfect for him. Not being able to hear him squeal with delight over the present that we had agonized over before finally deciding on. Not being able to watch him run around the room hopped up on the excitement of being the center of attention for an entire day. Not being able to give him a giant squishy hug and kiss as his last night as a two year old and on the morning of his first day as a three year old. All these things make this day heartbreaking. But we are able to spend the day with moments of happiness as we get emails, texts or messages from friends and family who have done acts of kindness to others on Benjamin's birthday.
So all I ask is that you do an act of kindness to others this Friday. Then let me know what it was. I am keeping a list each year. This is the first year that I will share the list with Jackson. He 'gets it' this year. He understands who Benjamin was, what he means to all of us, that he has died and that we celebrate his birthday in his honour since we love and miss him. He understands that we are asking people to do things for other people to make them smile. That we are doing it for his baby brother.
Anyways, that was off topic! Once again this year I am asking everyone to do a random act of kindness on Benjamin's birthday, in his honour. It can be a small act or a large act. An act toward someone you know or someone you don't know. It can be a monetary gesture or free kind gesture. I don't care what you do, as long as you somehow make another person's life a little easier or happier for even just a second. As long as you make someone smile in Benjamin's honour it will make this difficult day a little easier for my little family. The fact that we cannot see Benjamin's sweet little face break out into a giant smile as he celebrates his special day is hard for us. Not being able to watch him blow out the candles on his cake, a cake that he requested and I spent hours slaving over to make it perfect for him. Not being able to hear him squeal with delight over the present that we had agonized over before finally deciding on. Not being able to watch him run around the room hopped up on the excitement of being the center of attention for an entire day. Not being able to give him a giant squishy hug and kiss as his last night as a two year old and on the morning of his first day as a three year old. All these things make this day heartbreaking. But we are able to spend the day with moments of happiness as we get emails, texts or messages from friends and family who have done acts of kindness to others on Benjamin's birthday.
So all I ask is that you do an act of kindness to others this Friday. Then let me know what it was. I am keeping a list each year. This is the first year that I will share the list with Jackson. He 'gets it' this year. He understands who Benjamin was, what he means to all of us, that he has died and that we celebrate his birthday in his honour since we love and miss him. He understands that we are asking people to do things for other people to make them smile. That we are doing it for his baby brother.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Just a quick statistical blurb
This really surprised me.
The year Benjamin was born there were 44,707 babies born in British Columbia
It amazes me now that people believe it will not happen to them; their baby will be born okay. And chances are good that that will be true. But now I know better. I can never be one of those wonderfully naive pregnant women. Because I know that to be one of the families who it does happen to is to live an unimaginable horror. You should never outlive your child. You should never hold your 6 pound, 3 ounce baby boy and know the only life he had was when he was cradled in your belly. People do not talk about Stillbirth; about babies dying. It is sad. Believe me, I know that. But the thing that is sadder is that no one wants to talk about it. My baby died. I will never get to be a proud mommy beaming at him over his accomplishments; hearing people tell me what a fantastic little boy he is. I never get to talk about him because to talk about him is to talk about a silent topic; a topic people would rather avoid. Most other bereaved parents I know want to talk about their babies. We want to be able to tell people how beautiful they were. How cherished they are. How loved they will be forever. We want to be able to include them in the ‘how many children do you have’ answer. Every time I have to say I have just two children a little piece of my heart breaks. It is true. I do only have two children. But I have had three babies. I have had three amazing little beings that take my breath away every time I think about them. Sadly only two of them are in my arms every day. But all three are in my heart every day.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Yes, it's been a while...
I'm still here. Still in the same town. We didn't move. Instead my husband got a job miles away from us and commutes back and forth (and by that I mean he's home a few days here and there). So far it's been working out pretty well. We've been doing this for about 6 weeks now and I think we are finally finding our groove with it.
So I didn't have to worry about what to do about the Benjamin Boxes or the support group. I'm still doing both of them. As much as I did before anyway. The support group still meets somewhat regularly, but now we don't have our location (it was at our business) so we've met at local coffee shops. This is fine for the core group, but if we get new members it isn't exactly ideal.
Now onto my dilemma... Every year for Benjamin's birthday we ask everyone to do a Random Act of Kindness in his memory. We also designate the day a Family Day. We don't answer the phone, avoid email, and just spend the day together as a family. We do fun things and get a cake that we eat with our hands. It's a nice day; full of love and mostly happiness. Sounds nice right? Well this year Brian won't be home for it. He isn't able to get time off from his new job to come home. So this year it will just be me and the kids. I'm having a hard time with that. I'm trying to decide the best way to plan for this day. I've found in the past that it's the lead up to the actual day that is the hardest. Once the day is here it goes by fairly well (notice I did not say 'easily'), but the days/weeks leading up to it are full of apprehension for how the day will be. I worry that I will spend the day crying and wanting Brian there to help me remember Benjamin in a happy way. I worry that I will not be able to make the day a celebration of his short life but will instead be consumed with sadness over the life he did not get to live. I worry that I won't be able to keep it together alone for Jackson and Lexi. I've had friends offer to spend the day with us, or to take the kids for the day but I'm just not sure what I want. I don't want to be away from the kids that day; I don't want to be alone. I'm not sure if I want other people here. I don't know if I want to spend the day with people that didn't know him. But the only other people that knew him were Brian, my parents and my mother-in-law. And they don't live near here.
So I'm trying to decide if I want to just continue as we have in the past, only without Brian here. Or to totally shake things up and do something totally different. I'm debating having a small celebration. A birthday party of sorts. Like a playdate with cake. I would ask everyone to bring a baby item to donate (either to the food bank or to a local shelter). It would be a small affair with only people who honestly know who Benjamin was, not just know that he is part of my past. People who will help me celebrate his life and how much he changed our world.
Thoughts?
So I didn't have to worry about what to do about the Benjamin Boxes or the support group. I'm still doing both of them. As much as I did before anyway. The support group still meets somewhat regularly, but now we don't have our location (it was at our business) so we've met at local coffee shops. This is fine for the core group, but if we get new members it isn't exactly ideal.
Now onto my dilemma... Every year for Benjamin's birthday we ask everyone to do a Random Act of Kindness in his memory. We also designate the day a Family Day. We don't answer the phone, avoid email, and just spend the day together as a family. We do fun things and get a cake that we eat with our hands. It's a nice day; full of love and mostly happiness. Sounds nice right? Well this year Brian won't be home for it. He isn't able to get time off from his new job to come home. So this year it will just be me and the kids. I'm having a hard time with that. I'm trying to decide the best way to plan for this day. I've found in the past that it's the lead up to the actual day that is the hardest. Once the day is here it goes by fairly well (notice I did not say 'easily'), but the days/weeks leading up to it are full of apprehension for how the day will be. I worry that I will spend the day crying and wanting Brian there to help me remember Benjamin in a happy way. I worry that I will not be able to make the day a celebration of his short life but will instead be consumed with sadness over the life he did not get to live. I worry that I won't be able to keep it together alone for Jackson and Lexi. I've had friends offer to spend the day with us, or to take the kids for the day but I'm just not sure what I want. I don't want to be away from the kids that day; I don't want to be alone. I'm not sure if I want other people here. I don't know if I want to spend the day with people that didn't know him. But the only other people that knew him were Brian, my parents and my mother-in-law. And they don't live near here.
So I'm trying to decide if I want to just continue as we have in the past, only without Brian here. Or to totally shake things up and do something totally different. I'm debating having a small celebration. A birthday party of sorts. Like a playdate with cake. I would ask everyone to bring a baby item to donate (either to the food bank or to a local shelter). It would be a small affair with only people who honestly know who Benjamin was, not just know that he is part of my past. People who will help me celebrate his life and how much he changed our world.
Thoughts?
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Holy Stress!!
So, big changes are in store over in our little household. We are currently in the process of turning our lives upside down. What's going on, you ask? Well, let me tell you...
1. We are selling our business. We have owned our own business for the last 5 years but have now decided to sell it. The sale is almost finalized (phawoo!).
2. Our house is up for sale. Wish us luck that we are able to sell it in the time frame we need and for a price that isn't too depressing.
3. We are up and moving from British Columbia to Ontario. We used to live in Ontario but moved out west 6 years ago. We love it here but it just makes sense to move back to Ontario. Both sides of our family live there, houses are cheaper, cost of living is cheaper, etc. We'll miss our wonderful friends here and the gorgeous surroundings and climate, but we've got to do what is 'best' for our little family. (Trust me, this took some getting used to the idea!).
So what does all this mean for me in respect to Benjamin? Well, it's weird. I didn't think it would be all that hard. It's not like we buried him here or spread any ashes or anything. His ashes are still in a little box by our bed (apart from what is in my necklace). There is no specific place that I go to to think about him. No place in town that I overly associate with him. So, yeah, I thought it wouldn't be all that hard. I was wrong.
I was driving home from work one night shortly after we made all these decisions and just started bawling. Why is it that the tears come so freely when you are driving alone in the car? I started thinking about how excited we were when we started this business, how we had all these dreams and expectations of how the business would grow. And now it was ending (for us anyways). It was like a death of a child in a sense. We started this business roughly at the same time that I got pregnant with Jackson (okay, not 'roughly', it was basically the same month) so this business was like our first child. Sounds corny, yes, but on that night it just felt like I was going through another death of a loved one. And all it made me do was think about Benjamin.
That brought up all the issues that the move will create with Benjamin and his what I have done in his memory. The support group, the Benjamin Boxes, the friends here that have helped me through the dark days and helped me celebrate the good days. How can I just stop all of that? But how can I continue it in a province that he wasn't even born in? It just doesn't seem right. I've had a few weeks to figure some things out and here's what I've come up with.
The Support group - I have talked to the regular members and they have agreed to keep the group going. Currently it is held in the conference room at my business so they'll have to find a new location. But they are definitely continuing it so that makes me feel better.
Benjamin Boxes - I have made a few more and dropped them off. I will be putting together as many as I can before I move (oh yeah, this move will most likely be in September/October, lol!). My hope is that I can supply them with enough boxes to last at least the rest of the year (hopefully more). I have also talked to a few of the members of my support group and one of them may be willing to take over the boxes for me. When I get to Ontario I may look into offering them at the local hospital there but it depends on what services they already offer to bereaved families. I will still stay involved in Benjamin Boxes, but someone else will become the contact for them.
I have received many generous donations for Benjamin Boxes. The contents of the boxes are mainly donated so I have more money than I need for boxes at the moment. I wanted to donate something else to the room, besides just the boxes. I spoke with the social workers at the hospital and we came up with a donation that I am very pleased with. I will be donating a digital camera, printer, ink, photo paper, and SD cards. The idea is that the social workers will take photos of the babies and then print out one photo for the families to have immediately and be given an SD card with the rest of the images so that they can print off more photos if they wish. The social workers will also be able to allow the families to use the camera while they are there to capture any images they want. Currently the babies are photographed by Media Services and the families are given one photo. The families also have the option of having Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep (volunteer organization that takes beautiful professional photos, like all the photos I have on this site). But by giving the families a camera they are free to take any photos they wish. For instance, I wish I had full body shots of Benjamin undressed. I hate that I can't remember every inch of his body. I can't remember what his thighs looked like, what his belly looked like, his little baby bum, etc. I want other families to have the option to 'remember' every spot on their little ones. I have already purchased the printer and we have lots of paper from our business. Now I have to decide on a camera.
As for my friends that have helped me through this? I will keep this site going (ha, not hard at the rate I've been posting!) and every year I will continue to do a Random Act of Kindness Day in Benjamin's memory. I may be thousands of kilometers away, but what's a couple kilometers among friends when you've got access to the internet?
One thing I have a bit of a hard time about is that this house, this town, this city are where I was pregnant with Benjamin. Where all of our dreams for him were born. Where we looked with excitement and joy on his upcoming birth. It's also where we found out he had died and had to come to terms with that. But it's also where he was born. Where we first got to see him, hold him, kiss him. When we move I won't have any physical reminders of him. I won't pass by the field that was ablaze with daisies when I was pregnant with him. I won't see my friend whose daughter is almost the exact age as Benjamin should be. I won't go to the hospital where he was born. I won't see people who knew him, who held him and touched him and know how beautiful and perfect he was. When I move any friends I make will only know of him as a distant memory. Something that happened to me long before they knew me. He'll just be an idea. Here they saw him growing in my belly, saw my ultrasound photos, held my hand and comforted me when he was born, marveled at how perfect he was in his photos, and they were there to cry with me over the unfairness of his death. They knew him. And even though he wasn't born alive he lives on in each of them. It'll be impossible to get that with a new group of friends. People who haven't lost a baby just don't understand. They usually think that it is something that time heals. I had a baby but he died before birth, three years ago. Three years is a long time. And I've had another child since. Therefore I must be okay. It must not hurt my heart still. After all, I have the millionaires family. I have my boy and girl. Why would my heart hurt?
So that's what's new with me...
1. We are selling our business. We have owned our own business for the last 5 years but have now decided to sell it. The sale is almost finalized (phawoo!).
2. Our house is up for sale. Wish us luck that we are able to sell it in the time frame we need and for a price that isn't too depressing.
3. We are up and moving from British Columbia to Ontario. We used to live in Ontario but moved out west 6 years ago. We love it here but it just makes sense to move back to Ontario. Both sides of our family live there, houses are cheaper, cost of living is cheaper, etc. We'll miss our wonderful friends here and the gorgeous surroundings and climate, but we've got to do what is 'best' for our little family. (Trust me, this took some getting used to the idea!).
So what does all this mean for me in respect to Benjamin? Well, it's weird. I didn't think it would be all that hard. It's not like we buried him here or spread any ashes or anything. His ashes are still in a little box by our bed (apart from what is in my necklace). There is no specific place that I go to to think about him. No place in town that I overly associate with him. So, yeah, I thought it wouldn't be all that hard. I was wrong.
I was driving home from work one night shortly after we made all these decisions and just started bawling. Why is it that the tears come so freely when you are driving alone in the car? I started thinking about how excited we were when we started this business, how we had all these dreams and expectations of how the business would grow. And now it was ending (for us anyways). It was like a death of a child in a sense. We started this business roughly at the same time that I got pregnant with Jackson (okay, not 'roughly', it was basically the same month) so this business was like our first child. Sounds corny, yes, but on that night it just felt like I was going through another death of a loved one. And all it made me do was think about Benjamin.
That brought up all the issues that the move will create with Benjamin and his what I have done in his memory. The support group, the Benjamin Boxes, the friends here that have helped me through the dark days and helped me celebrate the good days. How can I just stop all of that? But how can I continue it in a province that he wasn't even born in? It just doesn't seem right. I've had a few weeks to figure some things out and here's what I've come up with.
The Support group - I have talked to the regular members and they have agreed to keep the group going. Currently it is held in the conference room at my business so they'll have to find a new location. But they are definitely continuing it so that makes me feel better.
Benjamin Boxes - I have made a few more and dropped them off. I will be putting together as many as I can before I move (oh yeah, this move will most likely be in September/October, lol!). My hope is that I can supply them with enough boxes to last at least the rest of the year (hopefully more). I have also talked to a few of the members of my support group and one of them may be willing to take over the boxes for me. When I get to Ontario I may look into offering them at the local hospital there but it depends on what services they already offer to bereaved families. I will still stay involved in Benjamin Boxes, but someone else will become the contact for them.
I have received many generous donations for Benjamin Boxes. The contents of the boxes are mainly donated so I have more money than I need for boxes at the moment. I wanted to donate something else to the room, besides just the boxes. I spoke with the social workers at the hospital and we came up with a donation that I am very pleased with. I will be donating a digital camera, printer, ink, photo paper, and SD cards. The idea is that the social workers will take photos of the babies and then print out one photo for the families to have immediately and be given an SD card with the rest of the images so that they can print off more photos if they wish. The social workers will also be able to allow the families to use the camera while they are there to capture any images they want. Currently the babies are photographed by Media Services and the families are given one photo. The families also have the option of having Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep (volunteer organization that takes beautiful professional photos, like all the photos I have on this site). But by giving the families a camera they are free to take any photos they wish. For instance, I wish I had full body shots of Benjamin undressed. I hate that I can't remember every inch of his body. I can't remember what his thighs looked like, what his belly looked like, his little baby bum, etc. I want other families to have the option to 'remember' every spot on their little ones. I have already purchased the printer and we have lots of paper from our business. Now I have to decide on a camera.
As for my friends that have helped me through this? I will keep this site going (ha, not hard at the rate I've been posting!) and every year I will continue to do a Random Act of Kindness Day in Benjamin's memory. I may be thousands of kilometers away, but what's a couple kilometers among friends when you've got access to the internet?
One thing I have a bit of a hard time about is that this house, this town, this city are where I was pregnant with Benjamin. Where all of our dreams for him were born. Where we looked with excitement and joy on his upcoming birth. It's also where we found out he had died and had to come to terms with that. But it's also where he was born. Where we first got to see him, hold him, kiss him. When we move I won't have any physical reminders of him. I won't pass by the field that was ablaze with daisies when I was pregnant with him. I won't see my friend whose daughter is almost the exact age as Benjamin should be. I won't go to the hospital where he was born. I won't see people who knew him, who held him and touched him and know how beautiful and perfect he was. When I move any friends I make will only know of him as a distant memory. Something that happened to me long before they knew me. He'll just be an idea. Here they saw him growing in my belly, saw my ultrasound photos, held my hand and comforted me when he was born, marveled at how perfect he was in his photos, and they were there to cry with me over the unfairness of his death. They knew him. And even though he wasn't born alive he lives on in each of them. It'll be impossible to get that with a new group of friends. People who haven't lost a baby just don't understand. They usually think that it is something that time heals. I had a baby but he died before birth, three years ago. Three years is a long time. And I've had another child since. Therefore I must be okay. It must not hurt my heart still. After all, I have the millionaires family. I have my boy and girl. Why would my heart hurt?
So that's what's new with me...
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Autopsy report
I requested all my hospital records for all three births. I also requested all the records for all three babies. Including the autopsy report for Benjamin. I just wanted some answers I had surrounding all three labour, deliveries, and hospital stays. I got them last week.
So now I have all the answers I will ever have regarding Benjamin's birth and death. I have the clinical reason for his death. I have details on his body. I have everything. And yet I have less. I now know his eyes were brown (he was born with them closed). I now know he died from "fetal thrombotic vasculopathy, the thrombus in the umbilical vein, and the pulmonary thromboembolic infarction of the right lower lobe of the lung". (yes, I have googled those).
BUT the report could not figure out how 'old' he was! Going by my original due date (the one I always believed to be true) he was born at 36 weeks, 6 days. Going by my adjusted due date from an ultrasound at 10 weeks he was born at 34 weeks, 6 days. Okay. So he was either almost 35 weeks or almost 37 weeks. I can live with that discrepancy. Then when he was born based on his weight and length they concluded that the original due date was correct and he was 36w6d.
Okay, a firm answer... Not so much. Based on findings from the autopsy report his weight was consistent with 38-39 weeks. His lengths (bone lengths, crown to heel and crown to rump lengths) he was consistent with 38-40 weeks. Based on his head circumference he was 40 weeks (but my kids have big noggins, so I'm not putting much weight in that one). But then his foot length indicated 36 weeks. Okay. So going by his body sizes he was anywhere from 36-40 weeks. Okay, those can't be all that accurate, so we'll stick with the 36w6d gestational age and just assume he was going to be a big baby.
BUT then the 'placental weight' indicated 33-34 weeks gestation. WTH?? How can the placental 'age' be 33-34 weeks, but the baby be 36-40 weeks? How can they not know how old he was? And not just by a few days, or even a few weeks, but by five to seven weeks?? That's almost two months!
The report actually states "In addition, there is a discrepancy between body measurements which correspond to a later gestation of 38-39 weeks gestation, and the placental weight, which corresponds to 33-34 weeks gestation." So they state this, but give no indication if this means anything. Does this have anything to do with his death? Can the fact that he was 'older' than the placenta mean that something was wrong and his body was working too hard? Could that have somehow caused the blood clots? If I had gone for more monitoring would they have seen this 'discrepancy' and been able to do something? If they'd seen that he was measuring 5-6 weeks bigger than they believed him to be would they have intervened somehow? Could he have been saved?
See, I have less. Now I am just confused. And, I'll be honest, a tad angry. Not at anyone in particular; no one could have known that he was going to die. No one could have known that he was growing so big. Just angry though. Angry that my baby had to have an autopsy. Angry that someone else knows his body better than me. Angry that he was taken apart and put back together again. Angry that there is that small smidgen of possibility that all of this could have been avoided. Just angry.
So now I have all the answers I will ever have regarding Benjamin's birth and death. I have the clinical reason for his death. I have details on his body. I have everything. And yet I have less. I now know his eyes were brown (he was born with them closed). I now know he died from "fetal thrombotic vasculopathy, the thrombus in the umbilical vein, and the pulmonary thromboembolic infarction of the right lower lobe of the lung". (yes, I have googled those).
BUT the report could not figure out how 'old' he was! Going by my original due date (the one I always believed to be true) he was born at 36 weeks, 6 days. Going by my adjusted due date from an ultrasound at 10 weeks he was born at 34 weeks, 6 days. Okay. So he was either almost 35 weeks or almost 37 weeks. I can live with that discrepancy. Then when he was born based on his weight and length they concluded that the original due date was correct and he was 36w6d.
Okay, a firm answer... Not so much. Based on findings from the autopsy report his weight was consistent with 38-39 weeks. His lengths (bone lengths, crown to heel and crown to rump lengths) he was consistent with 38-40 weeks. Based on his head circumference he was 40 weeks (but my kids have big noggins, so I'm not putting much weight in that one). But then his foot length indicated 36 weeks. Okay. So going by his body sizes he was anywhere from 36-40 weeks. Okay, those can't be all that accurate, so we'll stick with the 36w6d gestational age and just assume he was going to be a big baby.
BUT then the 'placental weight' indicated 33-34 weeks gestation. WTH?? How can the placental 'age' be 33-34 weeks, but the baby be 36-40 weeks? How can they not know how old he was? And not just by a few days, or even a few weeks, but by five to seven weeks?? That's almost two months!
The report actually states "In addition, there is a discrepancy between body measurements which correspond to a later gestation of 38-39 weeks gestation, and the placental weight, which corresponds to 33-34 weeks gestation." So they state this, but give no indication if this means anything. Does this have anything to do with his death? Can the fact that he was 'older' than the placenta mean that something was wrong and his body was working too hard? Could that have somehow caused the blood clots? If I had gone for more monitoring would they have seen this 'discrepancy' and been able to do something? If they'd seen that he was measuring 5-6 weeks bigger than they believed him to be would they have intervened somehow? Could he have been saved?
See, I have less. Now I am just confused. And, I'll be honest, a tad angry. Not at anyone in particular; no one could have known that he was going to die. No one could have known that he was growing so big. Just angry though. Angry that my baby had to have an autopsy. Angry that someone else knows his body better than me. Angry that he was taken apart and put back together again. Angry that there is that small smidgen of possibility that all of this could have been avoided. Just angry.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Daisy
I was at a discussion group the other day where about a dozen parents were sitting around waiting for a guest speaker to start. We had just done introductions and one lady introduced herself and told us that she was 36 weeks pregnant. I asked her if she knew whether she was having a boy or a girl. She answered that she did not and hadn't known with her first child either, but she had just known that the baby was a girl. I asked if she had any feelings about this baby. She replied that she did not, but that her daughter was absolutely convinced it was going to be a girl. She even had decided on a name. I asked what the name was. She replied "Daisy".
She must now think I'm a moron. I had been just chatting away with her all friendly and intersted in her life but as soon as she said this I immediately looked away and avoided eye contact with her for the next 15 minutes for fear of bursting into tears. A little hard to avoid eye contact since she was the guest speaker.
She must now think I'm a moron. I had been just chatting away with her all friendly and intersted in her life but as soon as she said this I immediately looked away and avoided eye contact with her for the next 15 minutes for fear of bursting into tears. A little hard to avoid eye contact since she was the guest speaker.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
For Jen and Catrina
This is the infamous painting I was talking about.
There is this painting in Room 7 of the hospital. Room 7 is the room that all families who have had, or are having, stillbirth babies are put. This painting is many things. Confusing is the main one. There were many times during my hospital stay that I would talk with whoever was with me and we would try to figure out what the hell the painting meant. I never did figure it out.
So enjoy!
In case you can't read the title, it is "Flower of Tulips". What the hell does 'flower of tulips even mean??? That was our main dilemma, I mean the picture itself is okay, in a flea market art kind of way. And really, what kind of picture is appropriate for a room where all your dreams have just shattered? But 'flower of tulips'? Really? Any ideas on this?
There is this painting in Room 7 of the hospital. Room 7 is the room that all families who have had, or are having, stillbirth babies are put. This painting is many things. Confusing is the main one. There were many times during my hospital stay that I would talk with whoever was with me and we would try to figure out what the hell the painting meant. I never did figure it out.
So enjoy!
In case you can't read the title, it is "Flower of Tulips". What the hell does 'flower of tulips even mean??? That was our main dilemma, I mean the picture itself is okay, in a flea market art kind of way. And really, what kind of picture is appropriate for a room where all your dreams have just shattered? But 'flower of tulips'? Really? Any ideas on this?
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Happy Birthday sweet baby boy
Dear Benjamin,
We love you and miss you today, as always, Benjamin. The years may pass but the love we feel for you never lessens.
I try to imagine you as a two year old. You should be running around by now, talking, yelling, being a rambunctious two year old. I wonder what you would look like. When I am able to imagine an image of you it is always the same. You have dark curly hair. You have beautiful full lips. You are a tall solid kid, full of energy. Your voice is soft and sweet. I can almost imagine hearing you call me mommy. But it's hard. I have to really force myself to imagine you at two. When I think of you, all I can picture is a perfect little newborn. With dark curly hair, dark full lips, and a solid weight in my arms. Oh how I wish I could feel you in my arms again. To feel your little body filling my arms, to kiss your forehead, touch your hair.
I miss you in a way I wish I didn't know. I wish I didn't know the pain of having a hole in my heart. The pain I still feel when someone asks me how many children I have. The pain when someone comments on how perfect my family is, what with a boy and a girl. The sadness I feel when I see another two year old and realize they are almost the exact same age as you should be. The sadness I feel when I know Jackson and Lexi will never know you. They will know of you, but it's not the same. You will just be a person from the past to them, the brother they never really had. That hurts. So much. I so desperately want you to grow up with them. To learn things from Jackson, to teach things to Lexi. That is just unfair. Why did it have to be you, little man? Why did you have to die? Why you??
That's all for now. I refuse to let your birthday be one of sadness. Two years ago today you were born. I got to embrace you in my arms. Your daddy, gramma, papa and nana got to hold you. Two years ago you were a real baby, for the whole world to see, not just my own special baby for me to feel and know.
Your short life has changed the world, Benjamin. People all over Canada and the States are doing nice things today in your memory. People are smiling today because of you.
And I am smiling today because of you. I smile every day because of you. Yes, I cry still too, but mostly I smile. I smile because I cannot help smiling, the love just gets the best of me. Even though I truly do wish you were here today with us, I know that even in death you are always with us. So tonight when we are blowing out your candles and eating your birthday cake I would like to believe that you are smiling too.
I love you so much sweet boy. I always will.
Love,
Mommy
We love you and miss you today, as always, Benjamin. The years may pass but the love we feel for you never lessens.
I try to imagine you as a two year old. You should be running around by now, talking, yelling, being a rambunctious two year old. I wonder what you would look like. When I am able to imagine an image of you it is always the same. You have dark curly hair. You have beautiful full lips. You are a tall solid kid, full of energy. Your voice is soft and sweet. I can almost imagine hearing you call me mommy. But it's hard. I have to really force myself to imagine you at two. When I think of you, all I can picture is a perfect little newborn. With dark curly hair, dark full lips, and a solid weight in my arms. Oh how I wish I could feel you in my arms again. To feel your little body filling my arms, to kiss your forehead, touch your hair.
I miss you in a way I wish I didn't know. I wish I didn't know the pain of having a hole in my heart. The pain I still feel when someone asks me how many children I have. The pain when someone comments on how perfect my family is, what with a boy and a girl. The sadness I feel when I see another two year old and realize they are almost the exact same age as you should be. The sadness I feel when I know Jackson and Lexi will never know you. They will know of you, but it's not the same. You will just be a person from the past to them, the brother they never really had. That hurts. So much. I so desperately want you to grow up with them. To learn things from Jackson, to teach things to Lexi. That is just unfair. Why did it have to be you, little man? Why did you have to die? Why you??
That's all for now. I refuse to let your birthday be one of sadness. Two years ago today you were born. I got to embrace you in my arms. Your daddy, gramma, papa and nana got to hold you. Two years ago you were a real baby, for the whole world to see, not just my own special baby for me to feel and know.
Your short life has changed the world, Benjamin. People all over Canada and the States are doing nice things today in your memory. People are smiling today because of you.
And I am smiling today because of you. I smile every day because of you. Yes, I cry still too, but mostly I smile. I smile because I cannot help smiling, the love just gets the best of me. Even though I truly do wish you were here today with us, I know that even in death you are always with us. So tonight when we are blowing out your candles and eating your birthday cake I would like to believe that you are smiling too.
I love you so much sweet boy. I always will.
Love,
Mommy
Monday, November 8, 2010
Benjamin's Second Birthday
This Thursday, November 11th, should be Benjamin's 2nd birthday. Last year I asked everyone to do a Random Act of Kindness in his memory and then to let me know what you had done. The response I got was incredible.
November 11th is a bittersweet day for our family. We finally got to hold our sweet baby in our arms, but it was also the day that any hope we had that the doctors were wrong was gone. To know that people all over the country (both Canada and the US) were doing nice things in his memory helped to make the day a happier one. We were able to focus more on the influence that Benjamin's short life had, and continues to have, on the world. This year is a little different as Jackson is now old enough to understand who Benjamin was and what he means to us. I have talked to Jackson about Benjamin and that sometimes babies die. It has been rough talking about it, but also very sweet to hear a 3 year olds take on the subject. This year we are baking cookies to hand out to people in the next few days explaining who Benjamin was and asking them to do a Random Act of Kindness too. Jackson will be helping me to ice the cookies and will help me hand them out. I want him to know that even though he never had the chance to meet his brother, he still has a brother, if only in the hearts of all those who love him.
So, I am again asking everyone to do something to make the world a little happier on Benjamin's birthday. It doesn't have to be big. It doesn't have to cost money. As long as you make someone else smile that is all I ask. I can't see my sweet two year old's face light up in smile, so just to know that other people are smiling on his birthday, becasue of him, then I'd like to think that his life made a happy impact on the world. And that has to be enough for me. Please post in the comments section to let me know what you have done. Last year I saved the list of acts that were done. I hope to do this for many many years and one day I will be able to share with Benjamin's siblings how their brother's life changed the world.
Last year some things that were done were (among many more):
- Washed a neighbours windows
- Baked cookies and muffins for a co-worker
- Brought neighours, co-workers, or kids timbits and coffee
- Donated baby items to the food bank
- Made family a priority
Thank you in advance. If you can't do anything then just knowing that he is being thought of that day is still very meaningful.
November 11th is a bittersweet day for our family. We finally got to hold our sweet baby in our arms, but it was also the day that any hope we had that the doctors were wrong was gone. To know that people all over the country (both Canada and the US) were doing nice things in his memory helped to make the day a happier one. We were able to focus more on the influence that Benjamin's short life had, and continues to have, on the world. This year is a little different as Jackson is now old enough to understand who Benjamin was and what he means to us. I have talked to Jackson about Benjamin and that sometimes babies die. It has been rough talking about it, but also very sweet to hear a 3 year olds take on the subject. This year we are baking cookies to hand out to people in the next few days explaining who Benjamin was and asking them to do a Random Act of Kindness too. Jackson will be helping me to ice the cookies and will help me hand them out. I want him to know that even though he never had the chance to meet his brother, he still has a brother, if only in the hearts of all those who love him.
So, I am again asking everyone to do something to make the world a little happier on Benjamin's birthday. It doesn't have to be big. It doesn't have to cost money. As long as you make someone else smile that is all I ask. I can't see my sweet two year old's face light up in smile, so just to know that other people are smiling on his birthday, becasue of him, then I'd like to think that his life made a happy impact on the world. And that has to be enough for me. Please post in the comments section to let me know what you have done. Last year I saved the list of acts that were done. I hope to do this for many many years and one day I will be able to share with Benjamin's siblings how their brother's life changed the world.
Last year some things that were done were (among many more):
- Washed a neighbours windows
- Baked cookies and muffins for a co-worker
- Brought neighours, co-workers, or kids timbits and coffee
- Donated baby items to the food bank
- Made family a priority
Thank you in advance. If you can't do anything then just knowing that he is being thought of that day is still very meaningful.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Infant Loss Remembrance Day
No time for a long post today (or any day for that matter lately!).
Today is Infant Loss Remembrance Day. A day to think about all the babies who were taken too soon. A day to remember them and realize how much they touched our lives in their short time with us. A day to think about those mothers and fathers who have missed out on so much with their little ones. A day for those of us that have lost our sweet babies to spend some time openly loving them and missing them. A day for those of you who know us to grieve with us and let us know that even though our little ones are not with us you still think about them.
As my life gets more hectic with a preschooler and toddler I find that I do not have as much free time to devote to this blog, the support boxes, or just thinking about Benjamin. But when I do sit down and think about him it still tears my heart apart. I think about what I don't get to do with him. I think about all the lost memories with him. I think about what he would be like now as his 2nd birthday approaches. I think about how I don't remember him as well as I used to. I think about how active he used to be in my belly, especially when I was sewing for him. I think about how perfect his feet were. I think about how much I love him, even without watching him breathing and living. I think about him as only a mother can.
I love you Benjamin. I miss you.
Today is Infant Loss Remembrance Day. A day to think about all the babies who were taken too soon. A day to remember them and realize how much they touched our lives in their short time with us. A day to think about those mothers and fathers who have missed out on so much with their little ones. A day for those of us that have lost our sweet babies to spend some time openly loving them and missing them. A day for those of you who know us to grieve with us and let us know that even though our little ones are not with us you still think about them.
As my life gets more hectic with a preschooler and toddler I find that I do not have as much free time to devote to this blog, the support boxes, or just thinking about Benjamin. But when I do sit down and think about him it still tears my heart apart. I think about what I don't get to do with him. I think about all the lost memories with him. I think about what he would be like now as his 2nd birthday approaches. I think about how I don't remember him as well as I used to. I think about how active he used to be in my belly, especially when I was sewing for him. I think about how perfect his feet were. I think about how much I love him, even without watching him breathing and living. I think about him as only a mother can.
I love you Benjamin. I miss you.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Terrified of death
I'm assuming it's normal that since I've lost a child I am terrified of losing another one. I know the pain firsthand. But how do you shake that constant nagging fear in the back of your head? How do you not read a story of a baby or child dying and immediately feel that all consuming fear of the exact same thing happening to your child? I realize it's irrational. I realize the chances of Lexi or Jackson dying is minimal. I know more kids live than die. But I've been there. I've been that rare statistic.
A few months ago I got an email about an almost-three year old boy in England that was abducted by two 10 year old boys and then tortured and murdered. The story sickened me and affected me so much that every time I think about it I cry. I just imagine that little boy being Jackson and him being so excited that these older boys want to play with him that he'd go with them. Then to have all of that horror happen to him? Just leaves me with such a heavy feeling around my heart. That poor boy and that poor family. Even though I know that cases like that are incredibly rare it still makes me so fearful that something like that could happen to Jackson. Not to the point of wanting to put him in a bubble or never leave the house, but just fearful enough that my heart skips a beat whenever I hear of children dying.
Then today a friend of mine posted that a friend of hers lost her one year old daughter. She choked on a piece of an apple she found while crawling on the kitchen floor. Something so random and her beautiful daughter is now gone. Just breaks my heart. And of course my mind soon went to the fact that soon Lexi will be crawling and getting all the random stuff on the floor (crumbs, cat food, small toys, coins, etc). I know that we will child proof the house and there won't be stuff that she can choke on just lying around, but with a 3 year old you never know what you will find at any time. I'm sure my friend's friend also child proofed their house. You just can't always be on top of everything. And look what can happen.
How do you deal with this? How do you block out all the fears? How do you read stories of babies and children dying and not immediately internalize it? I know one solution is just not to read the stories, but I cannot do that. A big part of me wants to read them because I feel that the more people that read them then the more people that this too-short life has touched. If I can be a little more cautious with Jackson, or be more mindful of stuff on the floor with Lexi then it makes the other losses a teeny tiny bit less tragic (okay, not really, but you know what I'm saying). But every story makes me bawl and then stirs up all those fears. Is this normal?
A few months ago I got an email about an almost-three year old boy in England that was abducted by two 10 year old boys and then tortured and murdered. The story sickened me and affected me so much that every time I think about it I cry. I just imagine that little boy being Jackson and him being so excited that these older boys want to play with him that he'd go with them. Then to have all of that horror happen to him? Just leaves me with such a heavy feeling around my heart. That poor boy and that poor family. Even though I know that cases like that are incredibly rare it still makes me so fearful that something like that could happen to Jackson. Not to the point of wanting to put him in a bubble or never leave the house, but just fearful enough that my heart skips a beat whenever I hear of children dying.
Then today a friend of mine posted that a friend of hers lost her one year old daughter. She choked on a piece of an apple she found while crawling on the kitchen floor. Something so random and her beautiful daughter is now gone. Just breaks my heart. And of course my mind soon went to the fact that soon Lexi will be crawling and getting all the random stuff on the floor (crumbs, cat food, small toys, coins, etc). I know that we will child proof the house and there won't be stuff that she can choke on just lying around, but with a 3 year old you never know what you will find at any time. I'm sure my friend's friend also child proofed their house. You just can't always be on top of everything. And look what can happen.
How do you deal with this? How do you block out all the fears? How do you read stories of babies and children dying and not immediately internalize it? I know one solution is just not to read the stories, but I cannot do that. A big part of me wants to read them because I feel that the more people that read them then the more people that this too-short life has touched. If I can be a little more cautious with Jackson, or be more mindful of stuff on the floor with Lexi then it makes the other losses a teeny tiny bit less tragic (okay, not really, but you know what I'm saying). But every story makes me bawl and then stirs up all those fears. Is this normal?
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