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?