A Very Lovely Way to Remember...

I awoke to a beautiful day as sunlight poured through the window illuminating Ashiah's serene face as she slept between Greg and I, having crawled in with us early morning as she often does. We had slept in, a luxury that doesn't happen very often anymore. 

We decided that it was a pancakes kind of morning and as Ashiah and I began to mix the ingredients we realized that we were 'sans' eggs. My first thought (and I feel lucky that it was), was to call the neighbors down the road who have chickens to see if we might borrow an egg. As Greg was busy planting the new fruit trees that arrived yesterday, Ashiah and I skipped merrily down the road to fetch an egg, still warm from the fat biddy whom we coaxed out of her nest when we opened the door. We mingled for awhile with our great neighbors and then made our way back home, stopping here and there to check out the cool line formations on the nearly frozen pond. 

Once home, Greg was ready to plant the tree we had decided we would plant as a family today. It is a Weeping Willow that we chose earlier this summer in honor of Zephyr, so thoughtfully given to us by Greg's new tree farm friend near Montreal as a gift. We grabbed shovels and headed down by the water's edge where the three of us took turns digging, holding the willow and then pouring dirt and leaves on it. As we planted, the Canadian Snowbirds soared in formation above us in honor of remembrance day. I thought of my grandfather who served in the first war and I thought of family. I thought of Zephyr and how he soon would have been part of our lives. And I watched fondly as Greg and Ashiah looked for the planes on the dock and I felt fortunate. 

We feasted on pancakes and Ashiah and I took a fabulous nap in our sun soaked loft bedroom and it was nothing short of heavenly. I then took Ashiah to the Museum of Nature where we were joined by my father who couldn't possibly decline Ashiah's invitation to join us by phone, 'Grandpa I'd like you to come' and after viewing cool dinosaurs, whales and other mammals, we settled comfortably in the theater downstairs to enjoy the Sound of Music together. It is a moment I will never forget... sharing a movie I've loved for so long with my daughter and father. I was so happy. 

After enjoying a less than healthy but tasty meal at the local diner, a very happy Ashiah and Mommy made our way home where we collected Daddy who was working at the restaurant near home and I ended my day with a warm bath while Daddy and Ashiah read books as Ashiah nestled herself on a special bed on the sofa to mark the special day.

It was a very good day... a lovely way to remember both the freedom we are so fortunate to have and what matters most in life, those we love.

Cathartic Writing...

Has been awhile since my last post. I think I needed a break from thinking about things, perhaps time to let go of the summer. But here I am tonight, head full of thoughts and I feel like writing.

It is week 3 of Greg's relentless travels - he was in Washington then, Mexico last week then left for Portland Monday morning where he'll be till tomorrow, then Seattle then Vancouver. He comess back on weekends at least but still tough. Off again to Edmonton next week and then a week's reprieve then Chicago for a week. We miss him. Ashiah often sleeps with me when her Daddy's away and it's as much for me as it is for her I think. The house is quiet... tidier :)... but lonelier.

But space as a couple I think is also good - good to experience things apart sometimes and have interesting stories to relate. I watched the movie 'Date Night' the other night and aside from it being pretty amusing, I think most parents would relate to how things can at times become mundane in the daily routine unless you make an effort to try new things. In that regard though, I think Greg and I will be okay. We actually aspire to mundane right now :)  Am proud of our relationship, proud of the ridiculous storms we've weathered in so few years together, proud of the work we've put in and the mutual love that continues to grow.

Speaking of storms, I've been in a slump for awhile but am feeling on the mend again this week. A friend of mine gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby boy a few weeks ago. I went to see her with Ashiah who was fascinated and it somehow brought it all back... When I asked her how she could be so energetic she said that her whole birth lasted 2 hours and that she barely had time to catch the baby under water. Now there is no question that I would also be glowing and happy after such an idyllic experience but as it happens, I've had two very non-idyllic birth experiences, one with a happy ending (for which am beyond grateful) and one not.

And so I fell into a rather terrible low, reliving the brutal 16 hour ordeal July 1rst and 2nd with the horrific outcome over and over in my mind... I began to miss my baby terribly and question my plumbing and overall use as a woman. I began to think that twice now I would have likely died giving birth and as my doctor told me last week, thanks to medical advancements, I have been granted life, even when my baby was not so lucky. I thought of all the mothers around the world who have not been so lucky to live...of their pain, of the 3 hours I suffered in agony until they were able to give me stronger drugs and how others have not had this option. But mostly, I thought of Zephyr. I miss him. Greg misses him too. I went to visit his grave for the first time two weeks ago and in some small way, it felt good to be near him again. But we are still very sad...

There are a few things I feel like saying. They are not intended to anyone reading this by the way because I don't even know who reads this. I just need to get them out therapeutically speaking I guess.

The first is that many people don't and will never 'get it'. Miscarriage in the first trimester is indeed a common occurrence and I think is often regarded as an 'oh that's too bad' but definitely not the way one might view someone who's carried their baby to term and lost it later. I now view this very differently but perspective is everything isn't it? To some it is a very hard loss and to others not as much. A long-standing friend recently asked me how I was doing and I told her that I was having a tough time lately with the loss. Her response was 'Well get over it. You could have cancer and no hair'. I told her I'd take the bald head to have my baby back. But her response was difficult for me to process on two counts. The first is that she also miscarried, albeit many moons ago but it didn't appear to have been as traumatic an event for her. The second is that she has always said that it doesn't matter how someone else views what you're going through, what matters is that it's real to you and therefore it should be dealt with accordingly. Suffice to say that I decided this would be my last attempt to discuss it. But then I had an interesting conversation with a very sweet friend this evening who also miscarried in her first trimester a couple years ago.

She said that one of the biggest differences with my experience was that aside from it being in the second trimester it was a long painful birth. And she explained that in the breastfeeding league she belongs to, women offer suffer post-traumatic stress after difficult births even when there is a happy outcome because it is very difficult to process, like any painful incident (such as perhaps getting hit by a car or something.) She said that having gone through such physical pain and then a painful emotional outcome that it's no wonder that I'm still processing and likely will for a long-time to come. This was relieving to hear amidst the various 'well intended' comments I've received.

The second thing I want to share is what not to say to someone who has just lost a baby, in any trimester, whether a long birth or a quick loss, the outcome is the same.

1) It was God's will or God took him to heaven or God will resurrect him. - Really? If he did take him then God is an insensitive asshole. And what would God do with a bunch of fetuses in heaven may I ask? And how would he resurrect a fetus? What of the woman who lost 5 babies. Will she suddenly be impregnated with all 5 again? These were by far the most infuriating comments. I don't believe that it's anymore God's will or doing than it is that existing children are molested, beaten or killed. Unless you're God, don't speak for him.

2) It wasn't meant to be or it was for the best. - Really? What is meant to be then? Is it meant to be when a child is born limbless or with a fatal disease? Is that for the best? How do you know what's best for our family? Do I know what's best for yours?

3) Why don't you just have another one? - It isn't like buying a new fish or a new car. It's a child. He was our child. He was our son. He was a very active baby who liked to do somersaults and we watched him and loved him on a screen for a total of about 5 hours in those 4 months as the doctors tried to figure out what was going on with the pregnancy. He can not and will not ever be replaced even if we do someday have another baby. It is a very insensitive thing to say.

4) Get over it, you could have something worse... - Think back to someone you cared about who died in the last few years. Are you over it yet? Does thinking of people who are worse off than you make it better or lessen the pain? Or perhaps just depress you more? It's not helpful.

Here is a list of the comments that did however touch us and were helpful:

• 'I'm not in your shoes or I've never been through this but I can imagine how very difficult this must be or have been to go through.'
• 'We're very sad for you and that you are living this terrible loss'. 
• 'If you want to talk or cry I'm here'.
• 'We are thinking of you and we love you.'
• 'I know you are strong but I also know that you can't always be and you're allowed to feel sad or angry or betrayed or tired. I am here'.
• 'Do whatever it takes to get through this'.
• 'Am dropping everything to spend the day with you. We can talk about it or not talk. Whatever you need I'm here'.
• 'It was utterly unfair that you had to go through the physical pain as well as this terrible loss. We are so sorry.'

Also, within the first few months, even if it looks like everything's okay or back to normal, it's not. She may just be putting on a brave face and being a strong mother but inside there's a huge piece missing and she is coping however best she can and keeps her sobs private. I think I was on auto pilot till the end of August. Guilt, whether rational or not is a huge emotion after this because it is a mother's job to take care of her baby. And although different for him, he is coping and missing too. He may pour himself into a million chores so as not to have to talk about it or cope with it because he has just been through a life altering experience - in Greg's case where he held his dead baby in his arms after being so excited to welcome him into his life. 

Life altering. It has been. That we are still sad doesn't mean that we don't appreciate all that we have or that we don't think of those who don't. And it doesn't mean that we're not happy either because in many ways, I think our family is happier and closer now than it has been in a long-time. But even through the mind of a busy, happy 3 year old who hasn't been told how to process anything or field any comments, it's been almost 4 months and she still asks, often before bed: 'Mummy, where's my baby brother? Why is he outside in the dark? Is he scared? Is he cold?...  Mummy... can you sing the Zephyr song please.'

A Very Good Day

Despite the fact that I have the flu and that Greg is away, I have to say that today turned out to be the BEST  day.

I awoke to kisses and cuddles from Ashiah who was in a very good mood. We got to school on time and for the first time, she didn't cry and was happy to take her teacher's hand and go into class. It was wonderful!

I came home, did some work and then went to bed for several hours to ward off this flu. I awoke to a sun filled room and the silhouette of the trees across a blue sky outside my window. Then my Dad called just to check in and tell me he loves me. I went outside, sat in the garden with my coffee and fed my Chippie Chip (chipmunk) and today he let me pet him. When he was done filling his face, he climbed my back and sat on my shoulder and we enjoyed the swaying flowers in the warm breeze together.

At 4:00 I picked up a very happy little girl who was so proud of her school day. Two of her teachers came to greet me and shared stories of Ashiah's fun filled day and it warmed my heart. We came home and I made a fabulous authentic pasta dish with fresh basil from my garden and Ashiah and I shared an al fresco meal together. As she inhaled her meal, Ashiah came up for air long enough to say "Thank you Mummy for making this yummy pasta supper."

Then the Chippie joined us and a very delighted Ashiah hand fed and pet him and then we jumped and frolicked together on the trampoline awhile. Then we went for a walk to see the chickens up the road - well I walked she sat on my shoulders. We then capped the evening off by sitting on the dock and watching the lightning streak across the sky in the distance over a mirror-like river. Sitting in the stillness and enjoying such beauty with my beautiful daughter filled me with peace and gratitude.

After a bath and talking to Daddy on the phone (he's in Edmonton), we read a story and Ashiah fell asleep without a fuss, but not before I thanked her for having shared such a wonderful day with her. Her response was the best: "Thank you too Mommy, I had a lovely day too. I love you." It doesn't get any better than that.

I am the happiest woman alive tonight.

Funny thing...

Moments that are at once painful can also be filled with joy.

First Day of School

Last Friday marked the end of an era and a new beginning. My baby, well little girl now, started her first day of pre-school. She's 3.

She's in a French Montessori program, a school that costs the equivalent of another mortgage and where hopeful parents who have mulled the decision over carefully have decided that this is indeed the 'best' school around and therefore warrants the cost. Apparently the head of child psychology at an Ottawa University also sends her child there so this must be 'the' place. I simply want her to learn French. If she does, I'll feel I've done my job as a parent, readying her for a promising bilingual future. But is this really the right move? Do we ever really know that we're making 'the' best decisions for our kids?

This investment I must add also buys you about 20 different forms to read and 20 more rules to adhere to: rules about parking, drop-offs and pick-up times, late fees (holy cow don't be 5 mins late!), nut allergies, acceptable lunches, inside clothes and shoes vs outside, sports gear and it goes on. You also must commit to preparing a snack for 19 children one day a month. So really, I feel like we've started school too all over again. I didn't much like it the first time around... so far not quite liking it the second either.

Parents all around us are making different decisions for theirs. Some have decided it's not worth the money, some don't have the money and some have made a conscious decision not to socialize their kids until the standard age of entry to public school. That was me, I was with my Mom till the age of 5 and she had taught me to read and write and count in both English and French by the time I went in as she was a stay-at-home Mom. That said, I was also surrounded by a large religious community and already had tremendous social and presentation skills. I was thinking of all of this as I got up today at a ridiculous (in Sam's world) time.

I dutifully got us up (did I mention much earlier than I think is humane?) this morning and shared breakfast with Ashiah at her kiddy table while we giggled together and cuddled. She picked out her own shirt (she's already at the 'no mummy I don't want to wear that, I don't look pretty' stage) god help us, but the rest went pretty smoothly... that is until it was time to leave with Daddy as it's understood that the parent who has the least trouble leaving their child should drop them during the first week. I finally extricated myself from her at the door as I handed Daddy her Dora lunch box, her favorite shiny black 'indoor' shoes and her water canteen. Daddy explained that they would have to look for 'water monsters' on the way to the car as it's pouring out which peaked her curious interest. I must admit that she looked ever cute in her strawberry covered raincoat and designer rain boots I happened to pick-up for a bargain the other day. But she looked sad and my oh so dutiful parenting suddenly felt pretty shitty.

I called Greg 30 mins later to get the update and sure enough, she ran back out of the school after Greg took her in and then tried a second escape. The teacher brought her in a 3rd time and Greg left as Ashiah kept a sad look on her face. I should point out that we went through this last Friday but when we picked her up, she was the happiest kid, so proud to have gone to school and "I spoke French Mummy!" She related the words she'd learned and the new friends she made and well, that felt much better than this morning...

Things went much smoother when she started daycare at 10 mths old. I'd given myself a month off work to acclimatize her and it took her a day. I cried last Thursday when I picked her up from there for the last time. Her provider, has been like a second mother to her and what more can you hope for when you leave what's most precious to you in someone else's care? Now she's in a class with 4 teachers and 18 other kids. A whole new world for her and for us. We've started school.

Camping and Bruises

Having returned Sunday from a family camping trip to Letchworth State Park in NY state, I feel renewed and more at peace with a new sense of self.

My new sense of self also seems to have brought out the klutz in me. I just walked my new sense of self into a slamming door and am now nursing a swollen nose and what will likely be a black eye. I also managed to fall on my bike on the last day of our trip causing an injury that no woman should ever have to deal with - I felt like quite the moron. If I were to see a doctor right now am sure they'd think Greg was beating me.

But back to the trip - it did me and us a world of good. Sometimes I think that this whole notion of not escaping your problems is crap. True, it doesn't take them away but it feels damn good to get some space from them sometimes. And there's nothing like fresh country air, marshmallows and Scrabble by a campfire and hikes along one of the most beautiful terrains I've ever seen (the park gorge) to free up some mental space to just 'be'. The park is worth seeing once in your life and if you're a hiker then definitely do the #1 trail along the gorge. Spectacular views and terrain. Lush diverse forest. Almost no other hikers on the trail... which btw, amazed me to see the number of obese people in this park driving up to lookouts in their SUV's and pick-ups. I've never seen the like anywhere in Canada from the Cabot Trail to the Johnston Strait.

My first week back has been eventful. Have had to try and work in the evenings and at intervals during the day since we had no daycare this week. (My job has been ever patient with me.) The one daycare is on vacation and the other, a close friend of mine lost her father over the weekend. She fell into my arms and sobbed when I went to see her Monday, crying is something she seldom does. So I took her kids for the day and made her supper - I know that space and not having to cook were things that help even a little now.

Then headed to Lachute (2hrs north west from here) with Ashiah on Wednesday to the funeral. That ended up being a lot harder than expected.... it brought it all back for me... Zephyr's burial... not to mention we buried her father in the midst of a massive thunder storm, Ashiah tucked in my arms in her raincoat under an umbrella - all of the adults were drenched and it was miserable.

We returned home and to cheer us up a bit I took Ashiah to her friend Stella's house to visit their newborn puppies. I picked one up and as soon as it was in my hands I felt that it was going to die... it was a horrible yet very real feeling. I put him back and told our friends that I didn't think he was doing very well. Sure enough, he died yesterday... it really upset me, I mean what are the odds.... but Greg thinks that I was drawn to him for a reason and that it wasn't by chance. His words were comforting although I'm now afraid to go near babies or pregnant women... not logical but there it is.

On a brighter note, last night, we had dinner outside and as the sky became colorful the trees began to sway as a warm westerly wind blew in and it was as though Zephyr was with me again... just came by to say hi Mom & Dad. And I was filled with calm again.

Wilted flowers...

After the flowers have wilted, and the family has gone

The memory of you in my heart still lives on

Not a day goes by when my thoughts aren't of you

Of your tiny frail body that was once part of mine

That your life was but just a short moment in time

The smile on my face hides the hole in my heart

I go through the motions but I feel torn apart

The swell in my belly is no longer of you

But of spirits imbibed to numb the lingering ache

Appearance of self-possession and serenity is best for all sakes

Like a warm passing wind your name fit you well

That you were once in existence no one can tell

But for the photograph I look upon every night before bed

My thoughts are of all that we'll never share and won't be said

As I slip into slumber it's my dreams that I dread

Though brief was your life forever I am changed

For in random moments my thoughts call out your name

Zephyr my son

I shall never be the same

Neighbors & Differences

 I am lucky to be on this road right now. It is a road filled with many interesting and great people.  Despite it not being a hugely populated road, there have been several changes in just the last couple years: new babies, several losses, a new community garden, and many moves. Our neighbors are sensitive enough to care yet considerate enough not to pry or overstep boundaries. It is a good road.

I was discussing this perk with a neighbor I'm most fond of this evening named John. He lost his wife last fall and I have done my best to reach out without overstepping because he is just such a good man... now a lonely one. Together he and his wife were posted the world throughout as she was an ambassador to Canada, he an architect and they raised a beautiful family. Now he walks his dog Lucy alone and watches the birds and we occasionally have the loveliest chats... yet so far a distance are we in terms of life experience; he was born in Australia and brought up in South Africa, his children are grown and his family is mostly all gone. He is ever so proper and English in his way and I am so, well, not. And yet, in each other it is plain that we have found a kindred spirit... he so kindly brought me a Hibiscus and a card today, and how of course would he know that I am simply mad for flowers, let alone Hibiscus :) The flowers both in and outside have brought much needed life to the house... am most grateful to those who sent them.

I have come to find it strange that those you most expect to seek solace in during such a difficult time are not at all the ones who turn out to be your greatest support. I am re-learning the value of differences and how important it is to cherish such differences because all of our unique gifts shine when needed most.  I am grateful for the people in my life.

God, Faith & Belief

A woman who was pushed down the stairs when she was 28 weeks pregnant gave birth to a baby girl who later died. She wrote me a moving message today. She is only 19, the incident happened when she was 15. It made me think back to where I was at 19... just married, no children on the horizon and I had faith in God. I was part of a very religious community that I left 4 years later and with it, buried my life and everyone I had ever known. (it's complicated...)  2 days ago, I received a message of sympathy from one of those individuals who meant a great deal to me; she would be referred to today as my BFF -  it was as though she temporarily resurrected from the dead to tell me she was sorry for my loss and then was herself buried again... 

The woman who wrote me today referred to us as 'Angel Mothers', a reference I tenderly associated with babies being innocent and angelic-like. I realized later however, that I am one of the few Mummies on the forum who doesn't think that Zephyr is an actual angel, now looking down upon in me heaven, awaiting a reunion... Nor do I believe that he will magically be resurrected one day and return to my womb. Although I do believe in a God or Creator who put everything into motion, I have come to believe that he/it does not have any sort of involvement in our daily lives. First of all, I would like to have nothing to do with any sort of God who takes babies and runs some sort of heavenly daycare. On earth, a person who takes someone else's child is called a kidnapper. Why would anyone want to pray to a kidnapper?

So no, I don't think God has anything to do with it. I think that the belief in heaven or resurrection is something for us to hold onto as a viable hope of explaining the unthinkable; that random bad things happen all the time and that there's nothing we can do about it nor is there any hope of seeing loved ones again, period. Don't get me wrong, I wish I did believe, wish I did have this faith because it would make things much easier right now... to think I could touch, feel and see my Zephyr again...

I think that prayer unto itself is sustaining. The belief that someone with the power to make it all better is actually listening and may intervene in our lives or give us strength - that very notion is powerful stuff. Meaning no disrespect, I have come to believe that it's the belief itself that carries the faithful through, not God. Although I have great admiration for people of faith, I have become a rather apathetic realist I suppose in that plenty of people all over the world pray for various things, all good of course; I mean who prays for something terrible to happen? And yet terrible things happen all the time, to good people, often of faith, caring, loving, wise, talented, funny, wonderful, young and old people without any sense of logic or reason. Think Haiti...

Greg and I watch a show called Lost. It is about a plane that crashes on an island and it's the story of the survivors and the rather strange occurrences that befall them. We are nearing the end of the series now and several pieces of the puzzle that have spanned several seasons are falling into place. It was the second last show we watched a few nights ago that stuck with me for some reason. (Potential spoiler here to anyone still watching this show...) It appears that a man named Jacob who has powers is a sort of keeper of the island and he prevents the evil, also a man on the island, from leaving so as not to exterminate the whole earth. The evil man is actually fairly likable as well and it is often difficult to decipher if he is really actually evil. Jacob orchestrates events to bring people to the island where they are left to their own devices to see if they can actually survive and remain good. He only protects a select few from actual death even though they still go through terrible suffering. The whole plot a rather biblical premise I thought to myself... One of the survivors who has come to the island after a terrible injustice has been done to him asks Jacob why he doesn't just tell people about the evil on the island and why doesn't he intervene in the events to help people? And Jacob says something like "that's not my job, I expect them to sort it out without my intervention."

Train Day

Ashiah has a friend named Stella who's birthday is the 13th of July while Ashiah's is on the 15th. The local steam train that comes by our road 4 times daily en-route to a quaint village named Wakefield is free for kids under 3, so there was a small window to take the girls before their birthdays. Stella's parents invited Ashiah to join them today and although I am not much up for company, I did not want to miss Ashiah's excitement of being able to ride the train that is so much a part of her life. So I joined them.

The girls had a wonderful time and we bought them toy engines that whistle, ate bad muffins and learned interesting tidbits about our area in the 1800's. There were musicians that played from car to car and Sarah (Stella's Mum) suggested they might play Happy Birthday for the girls on the fiddle which they did, and the whole car sang along. Stella was thrilled and Ashiah had a "this is so lame" look on her face. It was priceless.

Sarah is a calm, peaceful and sweet friend and her company was lovely. All went well till we reached Wakefield. As we disembarked it began to rain fairly hard and we waited for Stella's dad to pick us up. After Ashiah and I walked half way to the cafe in the rain we were then picked up but were very wet and muddy when we got to the cafe. Ashiah and I went to the bathroom to clean the water out of our shoes and when we got out there was too long a lineup to order food as our friends had ordered drinks and weren't eating and would have had to wait for us. I began to feel fairly anxious at this (silly I know) and took the kids to the play area to wait. Once there, the area was blocked by a mother and her cute baby boy who was in a high chair. My heart seemed to stop for a moment and I suddenly felt very trapped and couldn't seem to catch my breath. Will it always be this way... The girls went under the baby's chair and I sat at a nearby table with our friends. We were soon distracted by a Dalmation on the deck that Ashiah named 'Pongo' and the girls went to play with the dog and I busied myself taking pictures. I then remembered that I needed napkins at the front of the cafe to clean the mud Ashiah had left on the car seats and left the girls with the dog to play for a moment as Stella's parents were looking on. But when I returned Ashiah was nowhere to be found.



I have to say that this was the most panicked I've ever been since I've become a mother. I'm usually considered a fairly laid back mom but I became unraveled today. I began to run through the restaurant yelling her name, ran outside, knocked over 3 old women (I'm so sorry) and was now screaming Ashiah's name. What was maybe a minute and a half felt like 20 and when Sarah saw me freaking out she said that she'd seen Ashiah run up the stairs. Sure enough there she was walking down. My heart was racing so fast and I was shaking and felt like I was going to throw up. I hugged Ashiah so tight and told her to please never leave me again and promptly asked our friends to drive me home. I was an embarrassed mess.

Once home I fell into Greg's arms and cried and said that I clearly wasn't ready to be out in the world yet. I can't believe I lost it the way I did today and although I feel safe and good again at home, I wonder when I will be able to go out there and face the world in a rational, normal way again... or is this my new normal?

This aside, I am still proud that I was able to share the train experience with Ashiah and hope to be the kind of parent who won't look back one day with regrets that I missed out. I don't wanna miss a thing.

I will post more pics of Ashiah and Stella's train day here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/99049415@N00/

Zephyr Glen - April 3 - July 2, 2010

To bury your child is to bury your heart.

A piece of me was buried today in a little box wrapped in blue velvet in a plot in an old growth cemetery under a tree, along with my grandfather and uncle. To watch my beautiful daughter walk with my tiny son's coffin to his grave was surreal. Ashiah did so well today as we explained that he was too small and therefore he had to sleep for a very long time, there in the ground where it was peaceful. She seemed to accept this, although she wanted to see him...

A kind woman from the funeral home met us with Zephyr today. I requested that she open the box as I wanted to lay eyes on my son... I was not able to hold him after the delivery, I was too weak, too distraught, drugged and exhausted. But today, I knew that I had to see him, to hold him close to me just one last time... The woman was obviously unprepared for this and very nervous as she spent much time preparing me for what I was about to see. And yet when I opened the lid, I laid eyes on the second most beautiful site of my life, next to my daughter. There he lay, so small, so fragile, curled up... he could fit in the palms of my hands. I counted his tiny toes, I examined the contour of his head, of his spine, of his small legs... it was like looking at my broken heart.

Greg and I both broke down as we held each other by the grave. Ashiah found a nearby feather and put it in the ground and then she and I lowered Zephyr together. Greg and Ashiah both threw in some dirt and then we waited for a man to come and cover the grave completely. I struggled to not uncover him and take him with us, it was heart-wrenching...

The emptiness I feel today is so great that I can not possibly imagine what some of the other mothers who have been so supportive of me online have felt when they lost their babies... some to term. It is a suffering like no other I have felt, and I have had my fair share of tremendous loss. He was so active... like Ashiah, he moved a tremendous amount, somersaulting so much that I felt him move at 3.5 mths. And strangely enough, although it took us 9 months to name Ashiah, it took me only 3 to name my son.. I was driving along and it came to me, Zephyr Glen. I named a boy before the girl - it was the opposite for Ashiah, it took us longer to find a boy's name.

Although my head knows why he left my body so early, I am haunted by what I might have done differently, how I might have saved him... I will forever miss my Zephyr, our son.

Rest in peace my baby and know that Mommy and Daddy loved you very much. You will always be with us.

Day by Day

I am considered an outgoing person. What I do for a living is very public. As a facilitator and motivational speaker I am always before an audience, some small, some large, fielding questions, educating and even entertaining. My hobby also happens to be very public as I'm a singer. And like many 'performers' out there, when it comes to my personal life, I am much less outgoing. In parties, family gatherings and other public social settings, I tend to become much quieter, even reserved at times, preferring one-on-one conversations. I am also very discriminate about who I open up with, having been raised as one who supports others, not vice versa.

This aside, for anyone who's given birth before, you will know that it is something you prepare for mentally and physically, just as you do for any performance. Although you don't usually know the exact date, you know that around a certain time, you must prepare for an extremely taxing physical journey and a likely blissful emotional one.

I was prepared for neither 3 days ago. I went to the hospital because a doctor agreed to see me because I was having cramps and had passed another clot. Never in my wildest dreams could I have been prepared for a drawn out painful labor only to come home empty handed. Nor was I prepared for a drawn out recovery period. And when you're not prepared, it is much more difficult to talk or answer questions. I have been in shock, trying to absorb what has just happened.

It is not that I don't need my friends and family. I do, very much. I have just needed some time to make some sense of something terribly unfair. Why me, why now, why experience both the loss and the painful labor at this stage, why did I have to be in the 5%, am I defective, what did I do wrong, should I have held him, am I a good mother are but a few of the questions spinning dizzily round my head, keeping me awake at night, making me nauseous during the day. I try to keep busy to keep my mind off of things but it only weakens me till I can't stand anymore. I was not ready for this and therefore don't know what to say to anyone... what is there to say?

I have connected with others like me on a grief and loss forum. To correspond with other mothers who are grieving has been somewhat helpful, at least to feel less isolated. So far there is only one other mother who has had the same experience as me, her labor was 18hrs and she lost her 16 week old. Others have lost babies past 20 weeks or to term. One mother just lost her 4 mth old to SIDS. They have it worse. But what we do have in common is that we have all lost a child and in this there is a connection, an understanding...

I am extremely grateful to all of you who have written me, even if I have not yet responded, I have read you and loved you for it. Writing seems easier than fielding phone calls or visits right now. Just to know that you care means the world to me. I made my first call last night, to my sister, and will likely make more as the week progresses. I watch Greg and Ashiah sleep and feel ever thankful for the family I have, even if there is now a piece missing.

I just want to say that I mean to cause no hurt by avoiding anyone. Am just reacting to that for which I was unprepared... no script, no rehearsals, I'm taking it day by day.

April 3 - July 2, 2010

I can only bring myself to relay this once. I can't talk about it or see anyone for some time...

Yesterday, after a 16 hr difficult labor, we lost our 15 week old son. We had named him Zephyr Glen. Zephyr means a gentle west wind. Glen in honor of Greg's Uncle Glen who passed away.

The uncommon preterm labor was brought on by subchorionic hematomas which detached the placenta from the uterus, causing me to hemorrhage. We were told that to go through a full labor in the second trimester only occurs in 5% of pregnancies.

The first 3 hrs of labor were in a room in the emerg. Morphine, Gravol and Nubane shots were not helping the horrible pain as I begged for help as the contractions had been every 2 mins for 2 hrs and were more painful than anything I endured during my first 30 hrs of labor with Ashiah prior to meds. The pain was apparently caused from the placenta ripping from the uterus. They transferred us to the birthing floor and told us we were in labor and immediately gave me an epidural which froze my left side and leg completely. My heel has yet to get back to normal so am still limping.

After about 9 hrs I was at 5 cms. Although the contractions seemed to have stopped progressing the doctors felt we should induce birth since they felt the baby had not made it because I had lost so much blood. I refused and said I needed confirmation that my baby wasn't alive. They did an ultrasound which I did not look at but Greg did and I needed only to see his face...

They induced me with Oxcytocin and after another 4 hrs I gave birth. I could not bring myself to look at my baby.. After spending some time together sobbing, Greg went to say goodbye to our son and held him in a small blanket. We have arranged to have him buried through a funeral home in a family plot.

The staff, especially 3 of the nurses and one of the surgeons' were incredibly supportive and kind and did the best they could to help us through it all. We have been told that the physical recovery will be about 6 wks.

Ashiah has been looked after by my supportive sister who was at home with us when we left for hospital.

Although our son was only 15 weeks, we had grown very attached to him due to the numerous ultrasounds we had with the complications. Greg had bought him toys on his trips and I had written Greg a father's day letter from his unborn child. I miss my baby terribly inside me today and feel very lost. Hearing other stories of loss is not helpful nor are any words really...

As I lay in bed yesterday when it was all done, I could hear the cries of newborns ring throughout the ward. To labor for so long and not be able to hold your child is something I never imagined could happen to us, let alone a normal miscarriage. It's not something you can prepare for, one day there is life, the next there isn't. We cry till the tears won't come anymore and we cry some more. I can hardly sleep, I only see my baby in my dreams.

As I waited in the wheelchair for Greg to pull up the car, I watched a happy couple load their new baby into their car. The new mother turned and smiled at me and I smiled back because I know how happy she is because we have Ashiah. I can't imagine how horrible we would feel right now without our beautiful daughter.

I hope I've answered any questions you might have. Thank you for giving me the time I need.

Day 3

It's Canada Day. Greg is gone to pick up my sister, husband and nephew to help us today. Nabil (my sister's husband) will help Greg with stuff around the house and my sister will keep me company and the kids will play. Am glad for the company today. Otherwise it's easier to sit here and stress about every movement, cramp and wonder if and when the bleeding will stop completely.

I can hear the Wakefield train coming in. We live in the woods by a river. It's going to be a fun day out there with the festivities, the train must be packed and I imagine the tourists will swarm Wakefield village today. Did I mention I'm happy for the company today?

Day 2

Day 2 of bed-rest. It's only 12:22pm and I'm decidedly bored. It's not that there's nothing to do, as I've received many supportive messages to respond to and a few calls and this coupled with some work stuff I've been keeping busy from my bed. Can't imagine what mothers used to do before the Internet. Read a lot of books I guess and stared out the window. It's pretty out there today but apparently quite chilly.

Although my ass is mush and my back is sore from lying here, I know it's worth it so I'll keep my usual go-go-go ass in bed. There's a sub facilitator teaching my stress management course today. Somewhat ironic really... There are certainly some, like my mother and best-friend who are pretty happy with my non-negotiable confinement as they usually feel I have too much on the go. I suppose I do but I'm just not one to waste time, I like to be productive and feel I deserve to relax when the work is done. My nature I guess...

My sister sent me a nice little care package complete with muffins and movies so I'll likely pop in a flick to keep me entertained this aft.

Cramps are intermittent now and bleeding has lessened substantially. Still fairly nervous when I go potty, worried I'm going to pee out my baby. I guess that's to be expected...

Have a craving for Molo's grilled cheese panini with garlic mayo no onions. Mmmm. Damn.

The Calm after the Storm

As I look out the window from bed, the trees are basking in the glow of a soon to be setting sun. There's a nice breeze I can feel from the front door window and the shadows of the leaves flicker on the stone fireplace. All seems calm and good and yet last night's events are still haunting my thoughts... it's now a waiting game.

We are now about 14 and a half weeks pregnant with our second child, due Christmas day. We have known of the pregnancy since week 2 of conception. It is our second surprise child and although it couldn't have come at what parents often feel is 'the worse time', we have already forged a strong bond with this new life growing inside of me. One of the reasons for this is that unlike the first pregnancy, this one has been quite eventful with several visits to hospital and what has now been 5 ultrasounds where we have watched baby grow and change into a fully formed, athletic baby which I have already felt move for a couple of weeks now due to it's never ending movements. Regardless of how comfortable life seems as is, it's amazing how these little people can worm their way into your heart.

I have been in and out of hospital since Friday because of bleeding. Blood and urine tests have all been normal and ultrasounds revealed a thriving baby with a perfect heartbeat. The only thing found was what appeared to be a small clot at the top of my cervix. I was told not to participate in any contact sports, not to run and to refrain from sex for a few weeks. This seemed like a fair prognosis and so Sunday we returned home and I painted the outside window trim of the house which seemed like a fairly non-exerting task. But shortly thereafter I began to bleed again so I went to bed and remained there till Monday morning. I was facilitating a workshop on Monday and arranged to do so seated all day. All seemed well, the bleeding subsided and things were looking up...

Last night around 10:30, Greg and I were discussing renovation priorities considering my new more fragile state. As I sat on the counter talking, I suddenly felt a rush of blood and headed to the bathroom. As I sat down I felt a strange sensation as though something was washing through me and felt something very large come out of me. I screamed as I looked down to a flood of blood. Greg came running and yelled out 'oh no, oh no, what is it, what is it' with a look of terror on his face. I felt sure it was the baby and sat there for a time in shock and crying "oh no my baby, oh no my baby". In my shock, I reached in and pulled out the mass that had fallen from me. It was very large and appeared to be the placenta as it resembled a liver. Greg was very distraught and exclaimed that he needed to get me to hospital right away. My hands covered in blood and tears streaming down my face I told him we had to bring the placenta with us. I didn't know why but I couldn't leave it there. Poor Greg fetched a large container and I set it inside. I was now shaking and couldn't move. Greg somehow managed to get me mobile and we headed to the door. Greg retrieved our sleeping soon to be 3 year old from bed and we slowly made our way to the car. We drove 20 mins to my sister's house where she was waiting outside to collect our daughter after Greg called to tell her we were losing the baby. I was having terrible cramping and I was worried I was going to lose it there in the car.

We got to the hospital about 15 mins later and Greg wheeled me to Emerg. As they processed us I could barely answer questions as the reality had struck me. Greg and I waited patiently along with others in 2 packed waiting rooms to be called and we both began to sob in each other's arms. It was nothing short of awful.

A kind young nurse from triage recognized us as she started her shift and came up to us with a very concerned look on her face and softly said 'you're back...' I told her I'd lost the placenta and her eyes filled with tears... she has 2 children but miscarried once between the two. She said "I'll find you a room right now" and rushed down the hall. We sat for what seemed like a long time but was likely more like 15 mins and were taken to a quiet room where I was given a gown and told to lay down and rest. The kind nurse told me that I needed to prepare to see a fully formed small baby emerge and that they could either take care of it or we could choose to bring it with us. Greg told me he wanted to bring our baby home and bury it on the property. Greg held my hand and we waited in silence broken intermittently by our sobs of mourning.

It had now been 3 hours since I had lost the mass. The doctor came in to examine me. After listening to my heart beat and abdomen she did an internal. Her first words were that my cervix was closed. This was unexpected and also disconcerting news and I was struggling very hard with the thought of my dead baby inside me and now felt like it wouldn't come out... The Dr. then asked to see the mass. She looked at it and said 'hmm, there is a lot of blood... it looks like the placenta but it could also be a large, but rare clot. May I have it analyzed?" I faintly replied 'sure' and she said she wanted to do an ultrasound to see what was going on inside. I started to cry as I didn't want to see a dead baby inside me and Greg said I could turn my head and that he would look for the both of us.

They brought in the machine and I turned my head with a nauseous feeling coming over me. As the doctor moved the machine over my belly she said 'I think you had better take a look'. I refused but she repeated that she thought I should. I turned my head slowly and saw our familiar dancing baby and it's active heartbeat. Greg and I stared at each other for a moment and he had a smile on his face. I immediately broke down in tears again and asked 'what is going on?' Sure enough, I had passed a very large clot that was located behind the placenta. This is known as 'subchorionic hematoma' and occurs in 1% of pregnancies. Often the clot remains inside and grows or gets absorbed by the body. At times it dislodges the placenta and takes it with it as it leaves the body. Other times, it evacuates itself dislodging the placenta but the placenta remains mostly in place and other times it does not disturb anything. We are hoping for the latter.

The doctor has placed me on 5 days bed rest. The cramping was due to having passed the large mass and has indeed subsided somewhat today. We returned home and I got into a warm tub to help ease the cramping. Greg and I stayed up another hour together to review what was to be my 2 hour lecture at a museum this morning, but Greg went in my place, with very little sleep after having gone through that whole ordeal. I am beyond proud of him and feel incredible grateful that he was here with me and that we weathered the storm together.

I feel scared to go to the bathroom now and assume that this will subside as the days move forward and everything hopefully gets back to normal.

Greg is now snoozing peacefully beside me after a long work day for him and I have spent the day in bed, keeping busy with work, sleep and e-mail. Ashiah is still at my sister's for the night and my Dad will be bringing her home in the morning. I decided this was as good a time as any to resume my blog, if only to have some forum of expressing all that has happened... it sometimes just feels easier to type things than to say them, especially when they are so filled with emotion.

I feel grateful, still fearful but remain hopeful as I look out and watch the last glow of the setting sun.