It used to be easier.

I'll be forty-four next week. It's freaking me out. I'm not freaked out by getting older in general, but for the last two years I have been acutely aware of how old I am and how much time I may or may not have left to conceive another child.
Conceiving our daughter and then our son was easier than easy. One time was all it took. Now, after Kai's still birth conceiving a child has become almost impossible.
I waited a year after Kai's stillbirth before trying to have another child even though my heart and head were screaming to me that I needed another child. I realized that I was only thinking of a male baby... and that scared me. So, I waited and worked on grieving and dealing with my fears and ideas that the fates are against me.
Now we've been trying for over a year. I miscarried last June. In January I started taking Clomid, progesterone, and using an ovulation tester. This month my period was late. It's been a week. I tried to not get excited and I tried to deal with it all in my head but yesterday I told a friend about what was going on and how my brain is thinking of too many things both good and bad. I thought  - uh-oh. as soon as you tell someone you know it's going to be bad news - but that is my old negative way of thinking! I'm stronger now and don't believe all those stories I've told myself for years. Right! So I went to bed feeling okay. I woke up this morning to find my period had started... and now I'm trying not to say "I told you so!" to myself.
It seems that many women, after having a perinatal death have several miscarriages before finally keeping a pregnancy. It worries me because I don't have the luxury of time. I'm not young. No one stupidly said to me after Kai's death, "Don't worry. You can have another." - That's because I was 41 when my perfectly healthy son's heart stopped beating. I keep trying to be positive and keep in mind all the women I know who had children between 45 and 50... but it's only partially working. The roller coaster of trying to conceive is bad enough without adding the emotions of infant loss to it and then the age factor.
Sometimes I think I should give up on having another child (my little mean voices in my head agree because they say I had my chance and look how it ended up) but I know that if I do I will regret it. But how does one stay strong enough and calm enough to deal with all this uncertainty?

Merry Christmas Kai

Family holidays without a member of your family is SO difficult! Almost too difficult when it is a child... but we managed. I decided to participate in two infant loss holiday exchanges hoping that it would get me into the holiday mood as well as give me some time during this busy season to slow down and think of my son and hopefully add a little bit of a bittersweet smile to some other parents' holiday because their little babies are now known and thought of by one more person. 

In exchange for the two ornaments I sent, I received another hand decorated ornament and a gift package!

The ornament is decorated with Kai's name on the front and his stillbirth date on the back... all done in glitter. It's beautiful! Subtle colours. I love it and it looks great on our tree! 

The package contained items for Kai, me, my husband and daughter. Kai's name means "the sea" in Hawaiian and he was born during a snowstorm. These are things I associate with my son.  In the package were items that symbolized snow and sea!... many were wonderfully handmade! On Jan. 7th we are going to have a little birthday party for Kai.  I'm going to play the CD when we use the "FLying Wish Papers" on his day! The shell ring, feather, shell and stone that looks like ice are all in his Butsudan in the living room. His beautiful blue ornament will go there as well when we take down the tree.

This is the beautiful ornament that I received in the ornament exchange from the Remembering Together Holiday Swap.
Thank you SO much Tracey for the beautiful ornament! 

A very thoughtful gift from the Faces of Loss gift exchange.

Jackie included two very special rings for my daughter and a special calendar for my husband.

Jackie made this snowflake ornament with beads spelling out Kai's name. We hung it outside on his red flowering dogwood tree with the other ornaments we made.

I picked up these aluminum heart tags at the Movies and Makers Craft  Show that I participated in. I thought they would be perfect for decorating and putting on Kai's tree for the holidays. Martha (the craftsperson who made them) gave me an extra package when she found out what I was going to do with them so I was able to give some to members of the PBSO support group I go to!
Thank you Martha!

Ornament from mommy.

Ornament from Kai's big sister.

Ornament from Daddy.

Oct. 15th! Toronto, ON Canada

Please do what you can to support this cause. After our son Kai's death I learned that most people know very little about Perinatal death (unless you've gone through it) even though it can randomly happen to any pregnant woman. I also learned that most people, including doctors and other professionals are ignorant about the affects of this kind of loss on the mothers, fathers and siblings. We need this day to help us not be ashamed of remembering our wee lost children.

My daughter's friend releasing a butterfly for Kai at this year's PBSO Butterfly Release

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day ~ October 15th~ recognized in Ontario Canada

PERINATAL BEREAVEMENT SERVICES ONTARIO

Hello All,


I am putting a call out to all of you who are living in Ontario, Canada. On October 15th, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day, Perinatal Bereavement Services Ontario will be hosting a rally at the Ontario Legislation Building at Queens Park in Toronto.


We need your support to help us make the Ontario government see that that October 15th should be recognized all across Canada.


Come out and rally with us at Queens Park. We will then gather petition signatures.


You can view the online event at http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/e...


Come out and show your support on October 15th.

	Friday, October 15 · 10:00am - 11:30pm
Location	Legislature Assembly of Ontario Queens Park
More Info	Our Rally is being held on the grounds of the Legislature Assembly of Ontario at Queens Park. The rally will last approximately one hour and we will then leave Queens Park and gather petition signatures to have Oct 15th recognized as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day in Ontario.

Incomplete?

I wonder if this feeling will be with me forever? Feeling like something is not quite right. Like I am missing something or need something to be added. A feeling of not being complete
therefore nothing quite makes sense.

It's different than the feeling of dis-jointedness I get when I am depressed. Like my consciousness is two seconds behind what I am doing, seeing, hearing, feeling.  That is not the feeling I have.

It's as if there is a space somewhere inside me that needs that one perfect something and then my world will feel whole. Sometimes that space feels like it's in the pit of my stomach. Sometimes it's in my heart, and sometimes it's in my head... wherever it is, I don't think that there is any way I can  make it complete.

12:44 am, 20 months later.

In one hour it will be 20 months since I gave birth to our still born baby boy, Kai. I still wonder how a perfectly healthy, strong baby can suddenly die two weeks before his due date. I do understand that he suffocated and his heart stopped beating because the umbilical cord "broke" off from the placenta. His life line "broke". But no one can tell me why or what might have caused the cord to detach from the placenta. No clots (that might have explained the withered look of the cord where it was supposed to be attached to the placenta). Nothing abnormal. He was a healthy 7 pounds when he was still born. When he was born his colouring was purpl-ish. His lips were a bright deep red. In my mind I see him all pink-ish with rosebud pink lips. The black and white photos I have of him that were taken by a NILMDTS photographer barely hint at the fact that he was born without breath. He looks like a healthy baby in a timeless black and white baby photo.

How have 20 months gone by? When I gave birth to him I just wanted to die. I wished I could die. I couldn't imagine going past that moment. For days and says and weeks and weeks I wanted to die - unable to understand how I managed to still be physically alive each moment upon moment when all that was going through my mind was that I had somehow failed my baby and I deserved to die. Needed to die...
" My older daughter would be fine with her dad looking after her. Kai would be out there without a parent. I could be there with him. Did he even know how much we love him? Did he know that his death was so unbearable that sometimes I thought it wasn't true? Was he feeling abandoned? I definitely felt I was abandoning him when I had to leave the hospital without him - but what could I do? I needed to know that he knew we love him. I needed to take care of him; keep him warm, cuddle him, sing to him, love him."

Twenty months later I still sometimes have the urge to be with him, holding him out in the universe. All those moments have turned into almost two years. I still love him. The memory of Kai still hurts to my core, but it isn't as acute and desperate anymore. I don't think of the pain I feel when I remember him as a bad thing anymore either. As I explained to my daughter, "The pain you feel when you miss someone is a positive thing. It reminds you that you love that person and that you want to see them again - that you will take notice of their absence and look forward to being with them again."

We miss you and love you every day, Kai.

Too Sad.

Purple Cone Flowers from Lor's garden.

MY friend sent this poem to me after she read my facebook update. I couldn't pull it together yesterday to go to freelance job.
It isn't hers, but somehow she knew this poem.
It could be Kai and I.

It's sad to know so many women go through this.


Perfect Even In Death

No one remembers,
I cannot say why
Only thing I keep thinking
Is that nobody tried

You were mine, only mine
No one knew you like me
I don't know why He couldn't
Just let you be

We shared so much
In our short time together,
And the time that we shared
Has made memories forever

So much I learned,
So much I lost -
Everything turned, toppled
And tossed

Butterfly flutters, then turns
And kicks . . .
Then, that sad day . . .
Was my mind playing tricks?

No cry, no movement,
not even a Breath . . .
As you lay on my tummy -
Perfect even in death

When I think of you now
At the age you would be,
A beautiful "big boy"
Is the child I see

My son you were,
My son you'll always be
And One -
That is us;
You and Me"

by Lil' Red

In the moment?

Peering into the cosmos

Started yoga two weeks ago - ouch! I'll keep it up though because my mental and physical state needs it.

My naturopath prescribed Iamara for me. It's a homeopathic that is specifically for depression due to grief. I can take it along with my regular antidepressants! I've been taking one miniscule white ball a day and it actually seems to help!! I've been able to cut back on one of my medications! 

This is a homeopathic remedy that has a much longer track record than modern anti-depressants, is much, much less expensive and you don't have to have a doctor's prescription. I wish my psychiatrist and /or therapist had let me know about this. 

So, time is marching on regardless of how I feel about it. At this point Kai has been dead for as long as he lived. It's an unsettling thought. For some reason it just does not feel right for me to experience anything past this point. Usually your child's life goes on past your own. 

All these time passages are extremely unsettling to me. It's doesn't match what I feel or what is in my head. 

How does one live in the moment? 

September!

Kai's butterfly from the PBSO Butterfly Release in July

I can't believe it's September already!  How can time pass so quickly and so slowly all at once? Trying to make sense of it makes my brain hurt. 

I received the results of my blood tests that were taken after Kai died and again in the summer. Still no clues as to what happened to him. I'm still experiencing the vertigo that I had when I was pregnant. And I'm still having the muscle spasms, though they aren't as strong as when I was pregnant. Do I really want to know why he died? Would it help? Yes and no. Contradiction. That seems to be my life since Kai died. 

I've started getting back into my studio. It's a mess. I left on December 23rd thinking I'd be back to tidy up in the new year before my due date. Didn't happen. Here I am, 8 months later, just getting back to my work. 8 months... almost enough time to have a baby...! See! That is how my mind seems to be working! Everything refers back to my baby boy who is gone! Each time it happens I get a horrible plumetting  feeling in my stomach that I cannot stop. For the most part, outwardly, I seem to have recovered from my grief fairly well. But I still can't sleep. I'm not hungry but I eat because I know I have to. I want to hide away from my life but I know I can't. Are things getting better? I don't know. My world feels very different and it's not a comfortable feeling.

Waves

Siesta Key, Florida 2008

Aargh!

Computer keeps disconnecting from the internet! I don't know enough about these things to trouble shoot the problem! I don't think my brain would be able to handle all the information needed anyway.

Held my second infant last weekend. Our friends daughter is 5 weeks old. She's a beautiful little girl. I held her for about an hour, and I loved it. Of course,  my emotions caught up to me later in the day when things had slowed down. I'm not sure if what I'm doing is good for me. So many people say that even years later they have a difficult time around infants. All I know is that I will get an urge to hold a baby and most of the time I can't. So if the chance arises I take it. I've always loved holding babies. In the back of my mind I know I will feel pretty awful afterwards -the pain of a broken heart, anguish, anger -  but it doesn't seem to matter. I figure that if I feel all those things afterwards, then it must need to come out. I only get anxious before hand, when I know that I will be visiting or when I become aware that there is a baby in the group. I actually feel very contented when I do hold a baby. 

I think to myself: this is what Kai will never get; I hope that he has somehow kept a memory of the times that I held him after he was still born, of how much I loved him in the hours I got to spend with him in the hospital, of how much I still love him and miss him; Kai would be happy that all of my love for him isn't turning into anguish or despair and that the I can share the love I feel for him with these other babies. 

I believe that Kai, like most children, would be glad to know that he is loved and missed. He would not want to be the cause of unending sorrow and anguish. I do not want him to think or feel that! It is really difficult to stay afloat some days, but I'll keep trying.

We went to see the 3D animated movie "UP" this afternoon. I had been warned that a part in the beginning might be a bit difficult. Well, actually I found 2 parts in the beginning a bit difficult, but the rest of the movie was very enjoyable. The two parts in the beginning are only momentary and they are about loss. The rest of the movie deals with (in a hilarious manner) the old man, Mr. Fredrickson,  slowly overcoming his losses and grief.

I quite liked the movie. We are almost at the point where Kai would be 6 months old. I cried a bit at the two brief glimpses of Mr. F's losses. In a way, it helped me to release some of my grief over the loss of my son. 

Six months later, friends and relatives seem to assume that you are almost back to normal. Nobody calls, nobody visits. Sure, I have longer moments in between feeling overwhelmed by pain and grief, but those heart wrenching moments still appear several times on a daily basis! 

Night time is horrible. It's the end of another day that takes me a day farther away from the time I held my still born son. It reminds me that Kai is not in bed beside me. My hand holding his tiny foot and him contentedly breastfeeding, big eyes staring at my face and slowly closing and opening until he falls asleep. Kai is not here. I will never know what he looked like with his eyes open. I will never know his smile or his voice. I can feel my heart crumble in my chest every time I realise these things.

Weekends are very difficult, too. I'm not sure why. Kai died, most likely on a Monday. Tuesday morning we found out he was dead (technically we were told that "his heart is not beating"). I delivered him in the first hour of a Wednesday morning. All these days are during the week. Do I dread the weekend; because it was the last time Kai was alive? Because it leads up to Monday and finding out he wasn't going to be ours to keep and bring home? Because it's two days with my family at home and yet I still feel totally alone? I'm not sure. I've been asking myself about this for a few weeks. So far my "gut instinct" isn't telling me anything. Unless I can pinpoint the reason I dread the weekends it will be difficult to work through and get past. That is one thing I have learned about myself after 20 years of therapy.