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.