36 Letters...

Let me tell you about a 23 year old woman who sat alone crying in a small 3 room apartment in a dicey neighborhood of Old Hull. It was 1996 and she stared aimlessly at the remains of her life up until then - an antique table, some reupholstered chairs and a few boxes of treasures. She had, quite literally, just left her whole life behind; husband, family, friends, community, beliefs, everything and everyone in the hope that perhaps, just maybe, she might find something out there that would make her happier. She had but one friend, a work colleague and on him and herself she relied for the strength to see her through the initial transition from a sheltered world to one that would open her up to new discoveries, danger and opportunities that she might never have imagined.

Fast forward to the year 2004, after several failed relationships and many twists and turns, she felt she could no longer cope with this new world she'd propelled herself into. No stranger to leaving it all behind, she simply woke up one day and drove clear across the country, armed with a plan to end it all, far away from anyone she cared about so as not to hurt them. She found herself in Banff, Alberta and here she thought, would be the end of her life's journey. As she settled down on an embankment by the Bow River after having hiked a long way through the woods, she held the formula to end her pain in one hand and stared aimlessly out to the river, tears streaming down her face, filled with an emptiness that to this day is inexplicable. Just then, she heard a rustling at the top of the muddy embankment behind her. She looked about a meter up into a bright evening sun and there she saw the imposing silhouette of an elk with antlers like the branches of a naked maple tree, majestically standing there looking down upon her. He was much taller than she in height and could have easily trampled her but instead, he just stood there, watching over her in silence. And as she looked back at him, an inner calm washed over her and it was as though someone had waved a magic wand as her eyes opened up to the overwhelming beauty surrounding her. Suddenly she could hear the water flow past her, feel the wind rustling through the forest framed by magnificent blue mountains and the smells... the air smelled spectacular. She was soon distracted by family of elks across the river who were watering their young, unafraid of her presence and as she looked up again she saw that the great elk was gone. And it was in that moment that she knew that life was too beautiful to throw away and that there was much left to experience, to learn, to give and to live.

That day, she made a decision to change the way she experienced this great gift we call life. She knew that whatever happened, she would never go back to a dark place again and that somehow, she would embrace the new path she had chosen and make decisions that would guide her towards a life filled with laughter, purpose and perhaps even love. She would no longer just let things happen to her but rather she would make them happen, choosing people along the way from whom she could learn and with whom she could share the gifts that nature bestowed upon her.

May 18, 2011 marked the 38th anniversary of her birth, 15 years after her decision to step into a new world and 7 years after that fateful day in Banff. She had lunch with an old dear friend and felt comforted by his words of wisdom and kind face as they ate overlooking the Rideau Canal.  She spent the rest of the day in reflection as she put behind her a tough 37th year that marked several struggles but more importantly physical and emotional hurdles due to the loss of a baby boy that she misses every day...

The evening she spent celebrating with the very special man with whom she now shares her life and the father of the best gift life has ever bestowed upon her - her amazing daughter Ashiah. She returned home after a delectable meal and a fun filled walk, stopping off to listen to some impromptu jazz and to say hello to a good friend. Feeling most content, she readied herself to fall asleep but her beloved had a surprise for her. He filled the room with candle light and proceeded to hand her a beautifully carved, 100 year old wooden box and said to open it's drawers. As she opened the third drawer, she saw that it was filled with several sheets of what looked like letters on old yellow parchment. He then instructed her to read one page at a time and left the room.

It was then, at midnight on her 38th birthday, that Samantha began to read 36 letters by candle light that would once again, impact her in a life-changing way. The first letter was addressed to her from 'we' and introduced the 36 individual letters that would follow from friends and family that wrote how she had somehow touched their lives and why she was loved by them. Samantha sat until early morning, both laughing and crying as she read incredible heartfelt words that have left their indelible mark on her heart forever; reminding her of why life truly is beautiful and how fortunate she is to have not but a handful, but several hands full of wonderful, caring, inspiring, beautiful, amazing people in her life.

Thank you for having started this 38th year of my life on a most exquisite note and thank you for giving me the privilege of being in your life and for sharing your gifts with me.

And thank you to my amazingly loving, passionate, accepting life partner Greg for reminding me every day that life truly is beautiful.

Samantha

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.