Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Wishing . . .

I've really been pre-occupied these days with wishing I had Kai to hold in my arms. I feel a need to love and nurture him. . . but I can't because he's gone. I've given up on my gardening. I usually love seeding and nurturing my little seedlings until they become flowers and veggies - now it just keeps reminding me of Kai. It hurts.

I don't understand how he could have died? We were both healthy! Isn't that supposed to mean something? The cause of his death was because the umbilical cord detached from the placenta. Apparently the cord was 'withered' where it attached. There was no reason the doctors could find as to why that happened. He was still born at the beginning of 38 weeks. He was chubby! He weighed 6 pounds 12 ounces! He was so perfect in every way except that he wasn't breathing and his heart had stopped beating the day before. Did the cord develop that way . . . did I do something to cause it to form improperly . .  . or did I do something that made the cord wither part way through my pregnancy? I hate not knowing - but would knowing be any better?

I hate this. I wish he were here!!!

Thursday, July 16, 2009


Toronto, Jan. 2008.

"No matter how dark the moment, love and hope are always possible."
George Chakiris 

I hope this is true...

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Six Months

Here I am. It's July 7th. My son would be 6 months old now. I have a photo in our room of our daughter at 6 months old sitting in the grass. I look at it and remember her at six months and wonder what Kai would be like if he had lived . . . and I cry, a lot.

Last night, before my daughter went to sleep we talked a bit about her baby brother, Kai. 
We wondered if he would still look just like her? Would he have had more hair? She wanted to know if he would be able to walk yet? Would Kai be doing the same things she did at six months old? I can't tell her,  "I don't know and we will never know because he died." So we use our imaginations and try to guess what Kai would be like . . . He would absolutely be in love with his big sister. She would teach him songs and play little hand games with him. We would take him outside, put a blanket down and sit with him on he grass. He would like looking at the trees and sky. She would have to stop him from eating grass, point out cars, dogs, trees and name them for him to hear. We would take turns blowing raspberries on his little belly so that we could hear him make that wonderful baby belly laugh . . . We both smile and cry and these dreams we create.

I give my daughter a big hug so that she can give some of the hug to Kai if he happens to visit her in her dreams like The Beatles once did. She tells me that if I miss Kai too much and need to hug something I can always hug her pink doll if she is sleeping or at a play date. She thinks the doll is about the same size as Kai was (she is right) so even though it's a girl doll, she's the right size and it's easy to pretend it's Kai. 

The last couple of weeks have been very difficult. A friend from PBSO pointed out to me that around the sixth month, the grieving process takes a turn for the worse. I think it's labelled "Disorganization and Despair". My frame of mind meets almost all of the characteristics they describe. I feel worse than I did three months ago, everything seems hopeless, i can't eat, i sleep a lot, etc. I guess I can try to take some sort of warped comfort in knowing it is all expected to happen and that I am within the average time frame of grieving . . . I'm not really going out of my mind . . . yet.

In my mind's eye

What I had pictured this summer to be like ...