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?

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

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.

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.

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?

Congratulations C&L!!

I know that I've mentioned that I co-founded a support group in town for bereaved parents (specifically stillbirth and infant loss). The turnout for the group has been surprisingly minimal, but there are a core group of about 5 of us that attend the meetings and keep in touch. It's interesting because of the 5 of us we have one mom who lost her baby girl at 19 weeks, another who lost her baby boy very shortly after birth, another who's son died a few weeks after birth, another who lost her baby girl at term, and then me. There have been many meetings where it is just the other full-term loss mom there with me. We've talked a lot about our loss, but also about our hopes for the future and our day to day lives. I feel a real connection and bond to this woman.

So I could not have been happier when she told me that she had started the process to adopt a baby who was to be born in June (this was back a few months ago). It was not something that she told many people because they were, understandably, scared that the adoption wouldn't work out and they'd have to face another loss. We talked a lot about how a new baby changes your life after you have lost a baby. I told her the different emotions I went through when I was pregnant with Lexi, and then when I gave birth to her. I told her the conflicting emotions I felt when I had that first ultrasound that told me that this new little bean I was carrying was a girl, not a boy. The confusion, heartache, and excitement that created. It was as if in that second Benjamin died again, I could no longer pretend that I was carrying him again and he was getting that second chance to live. Now I was carrying a brand new baby. That was exciting but also heartbreaking. When my friend went with the birth mom to the ultrasound and they were told that the baby was a boy my friend later told me that she was better prepared because she remembered what I had told her about my experience. I'm glad I was able to help. You never know how much something can affect you until you live it.

On June 10th I got the email that I had been excitedly waiting for. My friend's new son was born!! You could feel the joy and love just coming off the computer screen through her email. I could not be happier for her and her husband as they welcome this little baby into their lives and hearts. I have only known her since her daughter was born last September and I can't wait to see her happy and holding this new little love of her life. I'm sure her daughter would be proud of the mommy that C gets to be to this baby. She's been a mommy for almost a year now, but now she gets to show the world outright the wonderful mom that she is.

Congratulations C&L. Both little K's could not have better parents.

19 months

Benjamin should be 19 months in two days. He would now be older than Jackson was when Benjamin was born. I remember how old Jackson seemed to me at that time. Barely a toddler anymore, more a boy. An older brother. How can it be that my sweet baby Benjamin should not be a baby anymore? He should be able to talk, run, jump, throw temper tantrums. He should be able to chase Jackson around and have matches to see who can yell the loudest. He should be here to help Jackson look after their baby sister. He should be Lexi's other proud older brother who is so excited for her to be able to play with him. The three of them should be our terrible trio; the three wonders who make us so happy to be parents and naively believe that parents do not outlive their children.

I love all my children. Some days I honestly believe that Lexi has, in a way, replaced Benjamin. Whenever I think that it makes me sad. I don't post on here very often because it makes me wonder if I am a decent mom to Benjamin. Do I mourn him to the extent that I should? Have I now had my 'rainbow baby' and thus pushed him to the back of my mind? Was he just a brief period in my life? One that is now overshadowed by the yummy baby in my arms?

I talked to a friend yesterday who has a friend that lost a baby at 3 days old. His birth and anniversary of his death are next week. Every year this friend sends a card to the family, to let them know that she still thinks about their son every year. While I talked with her I surprised myself because I found myself thinking that this woman who has lost her 3 day old baby has more of a rite to mourn her son than I do. He was born alive and then died. Why am I always stuck on this? Why do I think that just because Benjamin was not born alive then I don't have the rite to mourn him? I know that his death was the saddest day of my life. I know that I have a rite to mourn. I do, I know all of this. But I suppose since I never saw him alive then I have, in some way, convinced myself that he was never mine to start with. Does that make sense? Not really. I 'knew' him while he was safely tucked away inside me. I knew him as only a mother can. And yet, I don't feel I am 'allowed' to mourn him as I would a baby who was born alive. In the back of my mind I question whether I really feel that I lost a baby, and not 'just' lost a pregnancy. And trust me when I say that that belief pisses me off when other people have it! I know he was a baby, he was a big baby, he was perfect in every way (other than that pesky living part, yes I use dark humour to cope). I think a lot of it is societal. People don't talk about stillbirths. No one wants to acknowledge the horror that they are. And so we parents are left to wonder where our grief falls. Is it a 'true' loss, or is it mostly just the loss of what should have been?

I don't know.

But I do know that I am truely missing what should have been; my second born son who DID exist and should look similar to this right now...

(Jackson at 19 months)