Tuesday, December 25, 2012

to Enzo's Mommy

"It is funny how the feelings of loss and grief wash up like waves. Some days/months are easier than others... but I haven't quite figured out why. You are supposed to go with the flow and not fight your emotions but it is SO tiring! I'm trying to learn to accept that all a person can do is go with the flow and try to relax enough to stay afloat. I sunk several times in the past year but I guess I've never hit the bottom (even though it feels like I have!) because I keep finding myself eventually fighting to keep afloat. At times like this I wish we could all join in a BIG messy, sobby hug. A big hug that contains compassion, understanding, empathy, love and support. A hug that we all wish we could give our dead babies but give to each other instead."
- part of a note I wrote to Enzo's mother earlier today.

Christmas this year sucks. Too many new infants in my life and one sweet baby boy who died 10 days ago. He isn't mine. I know his mother from a workshop I taught and she contacted me just before he died. K. (I'm not going to write his name because I am not sure if his mother would want me to) was born premature and fought for 6 more months to stay in this world. When I read his mother's e-mail to me I had one of those film style flashbacks of my time with my son and the pain of his death. The absolute, piercing feeling of despair at having to leave my child in a cold sterile room when I had to go home. It saddened me to think that she might have the same piercing emotions. No one should have to experience emotions that are so strong, intense, painful and disturbing!... but we do... and we have to deal with the echoing after effects of this huge shock. Is this how the saying, "Life isn't fair." first came about, because it is SO true!

Monday, October 15, 2012

Tonight, for October 15th Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day,
we lit candles at 7 pm to remember Kai and all his friends out in the universe.
Our candles by the front room window. We light the large pillar candle on Kai's birthday as well. We have one for our daughter that we light on her birthday so we thought it would be right that Kai have one , too.

My daughter helped me write all our babies' names on the candles, arrange them and light them.
She even sent an e-mail to her Teacher skiing if it would be possible to have Oct. 14th mentioned on the school announcements!   I did warn her that they probably wouldn't do it but she said that it would be fine. She just wanted to ask. I'm so in awe of her. I was never that aware in grade 6.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Balloons - Aug. 19th.

Kai's balloons with the names of some of our friends"Angel" babies written
on a piece of washi paper and tied to the cotton string.

My friend and fellow IL mom letting our boys' balloons fly.
We decided to let them go from the "crow's nest" of the pirate ship play structure!

Going, going...

...almost gone. We watched them until we couldn't see them anymore.

The names of some of Kai and Oscar's playmates in the sky.

Thursday, August 16, 2012


at the Beach in Ofir, Portugal. I was visiting my best friend in Portugal.  We went to the Atlantic ocean where it was terribly windy.

These days all my energy goes towards trying to accept.
Accept that I lost my son. Accept that no one will ever know why. Accept that know matter what I want to think, it was in no way my fault. Accept that I will not have a Rainbow child. Accept that adoption is unlikely because of our finances, me mental history, our ages. Accept that every time a friend announces she is pregnant  or has a baby I will experiences massively conflicting emotions of joy, grief and jealousy. Accept that there is nothing I can do to change the void that is left in my heart when it grew bigger to with love for my second child that died before he was born. Accept that now part of my heart hangs like a deflated balloon in my chest as a constant reminder of what was to be...but isn't.

An event I've organised for Aug. 19th.  this year. It's a balloon
release and a pot luck picnic dinner at our local beach.

Sunday, April 29, 2012


Kai's red dogwood tree this spring.

It's been almost three and a half three years. I've always felt my life was ill balanced but after Kai's death it became even worse. For a while it was better... but now when I start to lose my balance I find it very difficult to right myself again. I know I have to for my daughter...but the unbalanced thoughts in my head tell me that she has her daddy and so Kai needs his mommy... and the pain of being here gets to be overwhelming at times.
There is a whole crop of brand new infants on the street by my studio. All of them are boys. I'm so relieved that all the parents had healthy, living babies. They are adorable! But I also get a feeling of being kicked or stabbed in my stomach. I can't have a "Rainbow" child. I had hoped we could but it didn't work out that way. My cycle is already slowing down. I see those happy parents with their adorable new children and I feel like an absolute failure at life. I know I'm not supposed to think that...but it is difficult.
I wish we could adopt but we can't. We don't have the money and as a past psychiatric in-patient I am not the best candidate for a mom.
Kai, what did I do wrong? Why did your cord whither where it attached to the placenta? I wish you could tell me...

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Isn't it strange.

Most of the time I don't know the day of the week. The date in the month is even worse. So, I find it interesting/strange/weird that I seem to instinctively know when the 7th of each month comes up. The 7th is the date Kai was born on. Several other IL mother's that I know also share the same sort of instinct for their child's birth/death date and author Beth Powning mentions the same thing in her book, "The Shadow Child".  As I do every day, I thought about my son. It was a warm day and there were couples out pushing their new infants in prams. I was a bit jealous. I took a walk and I passed by the natural toddler park that was built the year Kai died. I remembered imagining my future toddler play there when I was pregnant with him.

Thursday, March 1, 2012


Can't sleep because of this article in MacLean's which is a national Canadian news magazine.
"Are we over-sharing lost pregnancies? devastated by perinatal death, parents reach out in sometimes disturbingly public ways.

It is fairly upsetting for me to read even though I can tell the author is trying to mainly be informative. I want to write a "Response" but my brain is tossing all my thoughts about in great jumbles of hurt, anger, sadness, distress, reasoning and...and...other stuff!


Tuesday, January 3, 2012


I still don't know what to say.
that's why i haven't written.

my heart still aches for my son.
the tears still trickle.
my chest still tightens.
i cry in the shower.
i cry before i go to sleep.
i sit and stare at his picture.
i hold a doll like it is my son
... but i hug it tighter than i could if it were him.
i still blame myself.
i still wish.
memories still snap into my consciousness.
my heart breaks over and over.
i move forward in time
dealing with all this and trying to harmonize my son's death into my life.
it never really works.
i "pinterest" and look at all the positive quotes I have collected
all the beauty and inspiration i have collected.
i see my psychiatrist.
i go to a support group.
i don't watch the news or read newspapers.
i do card exchanges, gift exchanges, get togethers.
i attend candle lightings, butterfly releases, birthdays for children that are not here.
i talk to my son.
i cry to him.
i wish i could dream of him.

The old water pump at Chase Farm. It used to be right beside the barn.
the holidays are the days before we learned our healthy baby's heart stopped. the days when we were anticipating our second child who was supposed to arrive towards the end of January. On this day I was hoping that maybe he would be born early because I knew that now his lungs and heart were mature enough for him to be healthy and survive. My then seven year old daughter was even able to hear her brothers heartbeat and make him kick at my appointment two days earlier! we were unaware that we would not get our baby boy and brother. Yes, he would be born early but he would never get a birth certificate. we would never hear him cry, see his eyes look into ours, see his toes and fingers wiggle... we would never get to take him home to love and nurture. He was healthy and strong until his heart stopped beating the day before he was stillborn at 38 weeks. Born early like I had wanted... but maybe I hadn't specified that he was supposed to be alive as well? i thought that it was a given that I would want my son to be alive...guess not. my mistake? he was perfect in every way except he had no heartbeat and no breath, which in reality is far from perfect. he was perfect even with this lack of perfection. He seemed to be sleeping too peacefully. i wanted him to wake up. i wanted his bright red lips to turn pink. his bluish skin to turn pink...like his sister's was when she was born only without the "cottage cheese-y" stuff she had all over her from being an emergency c-section. i didn't want to be afraid of him... but i was. i'm sorry sweetpea.

memories make us who we are. it's too bad that some of them hurt so much but memories are all I have of Kai. i would not get rid of the memories of my time with him for anything. I will deal with the pain and heartbreak as long as I can have the memories of my son.