7 months gone and a week to Christmas. This has not been a good week, or a good month for that matter. I have been trying very hard to get into the holiday spirit, to find my usual love of this season, but it has abandoned me. The events of the past week have intensified this feeling. I had happily reclaimed some of my sanity, some joy in life, though that seems to be abandoning me as well in the wake of the terrible tragedy in Connecticut as well as the loss of a friend of a friend. I find the anxiety returning, I am again, unable to listen to the radio for fear of Christmas music, songs about loss or news of the Connecticut shooting. I know that this will again pass but it is a feeling that I was glad to be rid of.
As Christmas approaches much too quickly I find myself dreading the day and the emotions that I am sure will surface. I have still yet to find a first Christmas ornament for Liam. I was unable to decide if I wanted to just get him one, get one for each of them or get one for both. Unfortunately, I have procrastinated so long that it is looking like he may not have one on the tree this year at all. I did make ornaments for Adeline and have found several angel ornaments that will be in my stocking Christmas day. She has a stocking hanging on the wall with the rest of ours. I just couldn't leave the store without hers when I went in to get one for Liam and Brittany. As I look at it up on the wall it looks right, like it is exactly where it is supposed to be. I am dreading Christmas eve when we will take down all of the stockings to fill them, all of them except Addy's, that one will stay on the wall.
I did have a nice moment at work yesterday when I was asked about the babies by a co-worker. She was aware that we lost Adeline though, in the moment had forgotten and asked about "them". After quickly correcting herself she came back to her original question asking how they were both doing and asking to see pictures of Adeline. She listened to all of the things we were doing to remember Addy this Christmas and looked through the pictures of both babies on my ipad. I always love talking about Adeline but this was so needed and so appreciated this week. I think about her every minute of every day. Everytime someone asks me how many children I have, or I have to sign a card from us all I say her name in my head. I did not send out Christmas cards this year because I couldn't decide if it would be harder to write her name 100 times or to have to leave it out 100 times. I know that things will settle out some day. I am sure that while it will always be difficult, next Christmas will be easier than this one. For now I will settle for remembering her and holding it together enough to give the kids a good Christmas. I will plaster on a smile and pretend to be excited for Christmas in the hopes that someday the joy will come back and so will the real smile and holiday spirit.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Brothers
Oh my sweet girl, if only you knew what wonderful brothers you were blessed with. Sawyer, in particular, has amazed me throughout my pregnancy, your short little life and the 6 months since you left us. He loves you so very much and misses you every day. I know that he thinks about you all the time because he frequently talks about you. For a three year old, he has an amazing grasp on the concept of death and often talks about how sad it is that you died and how he wishes you could come home. He is certain that you are still with us though and informed me the other night that the shadows in his room couldn't hurt him because he has a sister and she is an angel. I am sure that he is right about this and you are watching over both of your brothers.
Sawyer was recently given a little baby girl doll. It is just about the same size that you were when you were born, though lighter. He has latched onto this "Adeline's baby" and has even named it Adeline. He wanted to dress her and decided that she needed a diaper so I dug through your box in the basement and pulled out a couple of newborn outfits and a pink diaper. He happily dressed her, undressed her, changed her diaper and redressed her for the better part of an hour. For your crazy energetic big brother, this is quite an accomplishment. He even made you an ornament for Christmas this year. It is beautiful and I think is the most intricate, delicate thing that I have ever seen him make. He even asked me to mix up pink paint just for you. It will hang on our tree this year and every year, along with your remembrance ornament, and you will be so very missed this and every Christmas.
Liam misses you as well in his own way I believe. When he first came home he would have moments when he was inconsolable, just wanted to be held and snuggled and even that wasn't enough. I am certain that he was, and still is, lonely without you. As a newborn he would stare intently at the shelf with your ashes and angel next to his bed. Now that he is bigger and interacting with objects he has several favorite toys. Many of them were supposed to have been yours. He is particularly fond of your pink stuffed elephant and falls asleep talking to and snuggling with it every night. I cannot help but picture you in the co-sleeper with him.
Although your time here was far too short, you were blessed with a loving family and wonderful siblings. You are loved and missed more than you will ever know. It warms my heart to hear Sawyer talk about you and claim your toys for his own because they are yours and need to be taken care of. I love to watch Liam snuggle with your things and play with your necklace when I am holding him. It is comforting to know that they will still be loving you and remembering you long after I am gone.
Sawyer was recently given a little baby girl doll. It is just about the same size that you were when you were born, though lighter. He has latched onto this "Adeline's baby" and has even named it Adeline. He wanted to dress her and decided that she needed a diaper so I dug through your box in the basement and pulled out a couple of newborn outfits and a pink diaper. He happily dressed her, undressed her, changed her diaper and redressed her for the better part of an hour. For your crazy energetic big brother, this is quite an accomplishment. He even made you an ornament for Christmas this year. It is beautiful and I think is the most intricate, delicate thing that I have ever seen him make. He even asked me to mix up pink paint just for you. It will hang on our tree this year and every year, along with your remembrance ornament, and you will be so very missed this and every Christmas.
Liam misses you as well in his own way I believe. When he first came home he would have moments when he was inconsolable, just wanted to be held and snuggled and even that wasn't enough. I am certain that he was, and still is, lonely without you. As a newborn he would stare intently at the shelf with your ashes and angel next to his bed. Now that he is bigger and interacting with objects he has several favorite toys. Many of them were supposed to have been yours. He is particularly fond of your pink stuffed elephant and falls asleep talking to and snuggling with it every night. I cannot help but picture you in the co-sleeper with him.
Although your time here was far too short, you were blessed with a loving family and wonderful siblings. You are loved and missed more than you will ever know. It warms my heart to hear Sawyer talk about you and claim your toys for his own because they are yours and need to be taken care of. I love to watch Liam snuggle with your things and play with your necklace when I am holding him. It is comforting to know that they will still be loving you and remembering you long after I am gone.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
A Whole Half a Year
As life has gotten back to a new normal it has become increasingly difficulty for me to sneak away from my busy life to write here. Who knew raising two small children, mourning another and running around trying to keep up with the schedule of a teenager could be so hectic, right? Last month was the 6 month mark, a whole half year without my baby girl. Somehow, I think I dreaded this more than the one year mark. Half a year sounds like such a very long time and yet it seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. I often think of this as the "lost summer." Lost to the fog of grief, the shock of our new, surreal reality. It does not seem possible that 6 months has passed until I look at my beautiful little 6 month old baby boy. Liam has grown so much in the last 6 months but the more he changes, the more he looks like Adeline. I was looking at pictures of her the other day and was struck by the similarities in their features and build. I cannot help but wonder every day what she would have looked like. Liam went in for his 6 month check up last week and measured in the 11th percentile for weight and 46th percentile for height. I can't help but wonder where Addy would have fallen on those charts if she had lived.
It is amazing to me how the past 6 months have gone by as an eternity and the blink of an eye simultaneously. I cannot believe that it has been more that half a year since I last held my little girl in my arms. It feels like it was just yesterday. I am continually amazed that the world has continued on without her, that daily life has continued even though our world changed forever. Every day that passes seems like one day further away from Adeline, one day for the memory of her, her face, her smell, her weight in my arms, to fade. I would go through all of the pain of the past 6 months again just to have he in my arms for a few more minutes, to give her one more kiss, to see her beautiful face one more time.
The days have gotten easier, in a way, as time has passed. The grief is no longer debilitating the way that it was, not as a rule anyway. This is both comforting and disconcerting. It is, of course, nice to regain so sense of control in my life and be able to function as a mother and wife. However, there is still a part of me that wants to hang on to the grief. I feel as though the grief and pain keep me close to her. Although the passage of time and the process of healing are inevitable, there is a part of me that dreads it. As we get further from the day of her death, people have less patience for me when I talk about her. As we come to the holidays, a time that I knew would be difficult, I find myself talking about Adeline more, about the things we will do to honor and remember her on what would have been her first Christmas. I often see in the faces of the people around me an impatience and discomfort or lack of interest. I have always been aware that this is not a popular subject though as time passes it is becoming less acceptable for me to talk about her, as though I should somehow have moved on by now. Though life has gotten easier, I have not moved on, I still miss Adeline everyday, picture her here with us constantly and would give anything to have her back.
It is amazing to me how the past 6 months have gone by as an eternity and the blink of an eye simultaneously. I cannot believe that it has been more that half a year since I last held my little girl in my arms. It feels like it was just yesterday. I am continually amazed that the world has continued on without her, that daily life has continued even though our world changed forever. Every day that passes seems like one day further away from Adeline, one day for the memory of her, her face, her smell, her weight in my arms, to fade. I would go through all of the pain of the past 6 months again just to have he in my arms for a few more minutes, to give her one more kiss, to see her beautiful face one more time.
The days have gotten easier, in a way, as time has passed. The grief is no longer debilitating the way that it was, not as a rule anyway. This is both comforting and disconcerting. It is, of course, nice to regain so sense of control in my life and be able to function as a mother and wife. However, there is still a part of me that wants to hang on to the grief. I feel as though the grief and pain keep me close to her. Although the passage of time and the process of healing are inevitable, there is a part of me that dreads it. As we get further from the day of her death, people have less patience for me when I talk about her. As we come to the holidays, a time that I knew would be difficult, I find myself talking about Adeline more, about the things we will do to honor and remember her on what would have been her first Christmas. I often see in the faces of the people around me an impatience and discomfort or lack of interest. I have always been aware that this is not a popular subject though as time passes it is becoming less acceptable for me to talk about her, as though I should somehow have moved on by now. Though life has gotten easier, I have not moved on, I still miss Adeline everyday, picture her here with us constantly and would give anything to have her back.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Giving Thanks
As we move into the holiday season I have done a lot of thinking about what I am most thankful for. I have been meaning to write this for several weeks, though finding a few spare moments is pretty difficult right now. As I look at all of the blessings in my life I realize that, above all, I am thankful to be thankful. Thankful that the events of the last 6 months have not left me so jaded that I cannot see the beauty in my life, all that I truly have to be thankful for. If anything, loosing Adeline has made me more grateful for the simple things in life and more aware of the blessings that stand in stark contrast to her loss.
Above all else I am thankful for my children, all of my children. I am thankful for every hug, every smile, every tantrum, every 4 am feeding. I am thankful for the time that I got to spend with my beautiful baby girl and all of the memories I have of her. There is nothing in this world that gives me greater pleasure than simply looking into the eyes of my beautiful boys. Just to look into their eyes and know that they are happy, healthy and alive. I have definitely noticed a marked shift in my parenting style and level of patience. There are, of course, still times when I get frustrated or just want a few minutes to myself. Overall though, I have a renewed devotion to my children. I cherish every moment with them, even more so than before. The little annoying three year old things that Sawyer does do not get under my skin the way that they used to. Even on days when he is being particularly difficult, I step back and look at him and thank God that he is alive for me to be fighting with. He is the sweetest, most caring little boy I know and it warms my heart to hear him talk about his sister, remember her and miss her. When Liam has one of his no sleep nights and I am awake for hours on end trying to get him to go back to sleep I find myself thinking about how much more difficult nights should have been and being thankful to be awake struggling with a cranky baby. They have both been my reason for living, for staying sane and getting up every morning. Without them, I would be lost and I am thankful every day to be their mama.
I am also thankful for my wonderful husband. He is my rock, my strength when I have none left. He is the force that gets me going when I can't move or makes me stop when I get out of control. When I found out that Addy was dying, one of my biggest fears was that the strain of loosing her would be too much for our relationship, that I would loose him too. If anything, our relationship is stronger for the stress and pain of the last 6 months. Over the last 6 years I have watched him grow and change from a bachelor to a husband to a father and everything that entails. Never have I seen more significant changes than in the last 6 months. He has shown a strength and a level of devotion that I have never seen before and I am so proud to be his wife.
I am thankful for my niece, Brittany, who moved in with us shortly after we brought Liam home. I am thankful that she is who she is and has fit so nicely into our family. For a teenager, she has shown remarkable empathy. I had many reservations about having her move in while we were dealing with the pain of loosing Addy. She has repeatedly shown me that we made the right decision and has truly become a part of this family. It warms my heart to see the picture of Adeline in her bedroom and hear her talk about her cousin. Becoming the parent of a teenager has had many challenges but through everything I am thankful to have her here with us.
I am thankful for my family. We have always had a wonderful extended family though never have I felt as much love and support as in the last 6 months. I am thankful for my parents who have gone well out of their way to help ease our burden in any way they could. From watching Sawyer so that Bill could be at the hospital with me and Liam, cleaning the house and yard and building me a beautiful garden, watching the kids so that we can attend support groups, lending us money while we get our feet back under us after an extended absence from work, and just lending a listening ear when it was needed they have been wonderful and I will never be able to repay them. My only hope is that someday I will be able to provide the same support to my own children, though hopefully not for the same situation. I am thankful for all of my aunts, uncles and cousins who made the trip to see Liam in the hospital or called to lend an ear, love and support.
I am thankful for my friends. I do not have many close friends but I hold dear the ones I do have. Although I have gone several months without talking to many of my friends, I still treasure their love and support. I have also made several new friends through support groups. I have a special bond with these women, one that I wish we did not have but I am thankful none the less, to have them in my life. These connections have made the last few months seem much less lonely. They understand my pain in a way that no one else can because they are feeling it too. While I wish we could have met under different circumstances, I will be forever thankful that they are in my life.
I am of course also thankful for all of the little stuff. A house to live in, food on the table, and a job that I love. After all that we have been through though, these things simple feel like added blessings. Even without them, we would find a way. We have each other and amazing family and friends. As I reflect back on the past year I cannot help but marvel, again, that I am able to be thankful for all of these things. Beyond that, I am more thankful than ever for the blessings I have in my life. I think this is because I have seen the worst that the world has too offer and it has made me that much more grateful for the blessings.
Above all else I am thankful for my children, all of my children. I am thankful for every hug, every smile, every tantrum, every 4 am feeding. I am thankful for the time that I got to spend with my beautiful baby girl and all of the memories I have of her. There is nothing in this world that gives me greater pleasure than simply looking into the eyes of my beautiful boys. Just to look into their eyes and know that they are happy, healthy and alive. I have definitely noticed a marked shift in my parenting style and level of patience. There are, of course, still times when I get frustrated or just want a few minutes to myself. Overall though, I have a renewed devotion to my children. I cherish every moment with them, even more so than before. The little annoying three year old things that Sawyer does do not get under my skin the way that they used to. Even on days when he is being particularly difficult, I step back and look at him and thank God that he is alive for me to be fighting with. He is the sweetest, most caring little boy I know and it warms my heart to hear him talk about his sister, remember her and miss her. When Liam has one of his no sleep nights and I am awake for hours on end trying to get him to go back to sleep I find myself thinking about how much more difficult nights should have been and being thankful to be awake struggling with a cranky baby. They have both been my reason for living, for staying sane and getting up every morning. Without them, I would be lost and I am thankful every day to be their mama.
I am also thankful for my wonderful husband. He is my rock, my strength when I have none left. He is the force that gets me going when I can't move or makes me stop when I get out of control. When I found out that Addy was dying, one of my biggest fears was that the strain of loosing her would be too much for our relationship, that I would loose him too. If anything, our relationship is stronger for the stress and pain of the last 6 months. Over the last 6 years I have watched him grow and change from a bachelor to a husband to a father and everything that entails. Never have I seen more significant changes than in the last 6 months. He has shown a strength and a level of devotion that I have never seen before and I am so proud to be his wife.
I am thankful for my niece, Brittany, who moved in with us shortly after we brought Liam home. I am thankful that she is who she is and has fit so nicely into our family. For a teenager, she has shown remarkable empathy. I had many reservations about having her move in while we were dealing with the pain of loosing Addy. She has repeatedly shown me that we made the right decision and has truly become a part of this family. It warms my heart to see the picture of Adeline in her bedroom and hear her talk about her cousin. Becoming the parent of a teenager has had many challenges but through everything I am thankful to have her here with us.
I am thankful for my family. We have always had a wonderful extended family though never have I felt as much love and support as in the last 6 months. I am thankful for my parents who have gone well out of their way to help ease our burden in any way they could. From watching Sawyer so that Bill could be at the hospital with me and Liam, cleaning the house and yard and building me a beautiful garden, watching the kids so that we can attend support groups, lending us money while we get our feet back under us after an extended absence from work, and just lending a listening ear when it was needed they have been wonderful and I will never be able to repay them. My only hope is that someday I will be able to provide the same support to my own children, though hopefully not for the same situation. I am thankful for all of my aunts, uncles and cousins who made the trip to see Liam in the hospital or called to lend an ear, love and support.
I am thankful for my friends. I do not have many close friends but I hold dear the ones I do have. Although I have gone several months without talking to many of my friends, I still treasure their love and support. I have also made several new friends through support groups. I have a special bond with these women, one that I wish we did not have but I am thankful none the less, to have them in my life. These connections have made the last few months seem much less lonely. They understand my pain in a way that no one else can because they are feeling it too. While I wish we could have met under different circumstances, I will be forever thankful that they are in my life.
I am of course also thankful for all of the little stuff. A house to live in, food on the table, and a job that I love. After all that we have been through though, these things simple feel like added blessings. Even without them, we would find a way. We have each other and amazing family and friends. As I reflect back on the past year I cannot help but marvel, again, that I am able to be thankful for all of these things. Beyond that, I am more thankful than ever for the blessings I have in my life. I think this is because I have seen the worst that the world has too offer and it has made me that much more grateful for the blessings.
Monday, November 12, 2012
A Day Ruined In a Single Sentence
I am struck but the ability of one moment or experience to shape the mood of an entire day. This has always been the case of course, but since loosing Addy it is that much more apparent. Now I go about my day constantly wondering what it will be today. What completely out of the blue, seemingly innocuous experience is going to come along and knock me on my ass. Usually it is something small, a set of twins, some adorable little girl stuff, that makes my heart catch in my throat and my stomach turn. The effects often continue, dependent on the gravity of the event, for several hours, tinging my day with a shade of sorrow. Occasionally there are those moments that cut deeper, that completely knock the wind out of me and change the tone of the entire day. Today was one of those days.
Today started out well. I was off to work per diem in skilled nursing, something that I really enjoy. I arrived at work, looked at my caseload and decided to start the chart review for the new patient I had been given. I went to the nurses station, pulled out the chart and began reading. That is when the whole tone of my day changed. I read in disbelief "end stage polycystic kidney disease. " My eyes kept reading, trying to move on and ignore those words, but my brain stopped and refused to comprehend anything else. I started thinking "This could have been Adeline. What if she had lived and had a full life before the disease took her from us". Before I knew what hit me I was shaking and close to tears. There was no sense to it. It was pure emotion and anxiety. I did manage to make a smooth exit from the nurses station and make it to the therapy office before i really lost it. It took me 30 minutes or so to get my feet back under me and pull myself together enough to return to work.
For anyone unfamiliar with polycystic kidney disease, there are two basic types, both very different diseases. One, autosomal recessive polycystic kidney disease, is less common and much more severe. This is what Adeline had. The second type, autosomal dominant polycystic kidney disease, is likely what this woman had, though I never did actually get up the courage to go talk to her. This type is much more common and less severe. I know, intellectually that these are two different diseases. Emotionally however, those words cut right through me. I could not see that woman and not picture Adeline. I had never heard of PKD prior to Adeline's diagnosis. In all my years working in healthcare I had never treated a patient with this disease. This woman is the second person I have met with the disease, though the first that I was asked to treat directly.
The rest of my day was marred by this one event. I was physically and emotionally drained before my day even really began. I continued to think of Addy all day long but not in the bittersweet way that she is usually on my mind. Instead this was a terrible aching, a constant reminder that she was gone, that she would never get to have a full life, grow up, have children and maybe even grandchildren before the disease claimed her. Her life had barely even began before she was stolen away by pure genetic luck of the draw. I know that there will be many more moments like these but I am sincerely hoping that the universe takes it easy on me for a while.
Today started out well. I was off to work per diem in skilled nursing, something that I really enjoy. I arrived at work, looked at my caseload and decided to start the chart review for the new patient I had been given. I went to the nurses station, pulled out the chart and began reading. That is when the whole tone of my day changed. I read in disbelief "end stage polycystic kidney disease. " My eyes kept reading, trying to move on and ignore those words, but my brain stopped and refused to comprehend anything else. I started thinking "This could have been Adeline. What if she had lived and had a full life before the disease took her from us". Before I knew what hit me I was shaking and close to tears. There was no sense to it. It was pure emotion and anxiety. I did manage to make a smooth exit from the nurses station and make it to the therapy office before i really lost it. It took me 30 minutes or so to get my feet back under me and pull myself together enough to return to work.
For anyone unfamiliar with polycystic kidney disease, there are two basic types, both very different diseases. One, autosomal recessive polycystic kidney disease, is less common and much more severe. This is what Adeline had. The second type, autosomal dominant polycystic kidney disease, is likely what this woman had, though I never did actually get up the courage to go talk to her. This type is much more common and less severe. I know, intellectually that these are two different diseases. Emotionally however, those words cut right through me. I could not see that woman and not picture Adeline. I had never heard of PKD prior to Adeline's diagnosis. In all my years working in healthcare I had never treated a patient with this disease. This woman is the second person I have met with the disease, though the first that I was asked to treat directly.
The rest of my day was marred by this one event. I was physically and emotionally drained before my day even really began. I continued to think of Addy all day long but not in the bittersweet way that she is usually on my mind. Instead this was a terrible aching, a constant reminder that she was gone, that she would never get to have a full life, grow up, have children and maybe even grandchildren before the disease claimed her. Her life had barely even began before she was stolen away by pure genetic luck of the draw. I know that there will be many more moments like these but I am sincerely hoping that the universe takes it easy on me for a while.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
A Year Of Firsts That Will Never Happen
As I watched the snow fall I was struck by the thought that this should have been Adeline's first snow. Instead, as with many things now, it is our first without her. She will never see the snow. She will never press her little face against the window to watch it fall, or run down the stairs in excitment after an overnight snow. I will never bundle her up in all of the adorable pink and purple winter clothes that are currently sitting in boxes in my basement. This year has been, and will continue to be, filled with so many of these firsts. She has missed her first bath, first smile, first solid food, first trip to the lake, first fireworks, first trip to camp, first Halloween, first day of daycare, and so many more. This is the year of firsts that will never happen. As I watch Liam's hair get more blonde by the day I realize that we will never know what color hers would have been. We will never know who she would have turned out to be. She will forever be one day old.
Each time one of these "firsts" happens I think of Adeline and miss her. No matter how small the mile stone, first trip to the grocery store, first time playing with a toy, I feel her absence for them all. Everytime Liam plays in his play gym I can't help picturing her there with him. I am acutely aware that during all of his firsts, all of his milestones, she is missing. Everytime I take the boys somewhere, I am struck by the fact that taking all of my kids out of the house was suposed to be much more difficult. I was suposed to be up at night with two babies and I long for that everytime I wake with Liam in the night. Stress, sleep deprivation and all, I want it more than I can ever express. I have been asked several times, when the boys were making me crazy, "can you imagine doing this with two babies?". The answer is a resounding yes. Yes, I most certainly can imagine it, it is all I think about and all I want in this world.
As we go through our lives without her I know that there will be many, many more missed milestones. She will never have a first Thanksgiving or a first Christmas. She will never taste pumpkin pie, say her first word, go to preschool or have a first day of school. Our family pictures, vacations and outings will forever be short one. We will remember her always but especially at these times, I know she will be with us. We will mark all of these missed milestones and remember her over a lifetime of firsts that will never happen.
Each time one of these "firsts" happens I think of Adeline and miss her. No matter how small the mile stone, first trip to the grocery store, first time playing with a toy, I feel her absence for them all. Everytime Liam plays in his play gym I can't help picturing her there with him. I am acutely aware that during all of his firsts, all of his milestones, she is missing. Everytime I take the boys somewhere, I am struck by the fact that taking all of my kids out of the house was suposed to be much more difficult. I was suposed to be up at night with two babies and I long for that everytime I wake with Liam in the night. Stress, sleep deprivation and all, I want it more than I can ever express. I have been asked several times, when the boys were making me crazy, "can you imagine doing this with two babies?". The answer is a resounding yes. Yes, I most certainly can imagine it, it is all I think about and all I want in this world.
As we go through our lives without her I know that there will be many, many more missed milestones. She will never have a first Thanksgiving or a first Christmas. She will never taste pumpkin pie, say her first word, go to preschool or have a first day of school. Our family pictures, vacations and outings will forever be short one. We will remember her always but especially at these times, I know she will be with us. We will mark all of these missed milestones and remember her over a lifetime of firsts that will never happen.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Capture Your Grief 2012
Day 1. Sunrise
Day 2. Before Loss Self
Portrait – Here I am super pregnant and very excited about the
babies. I believe this was taken at
about 6 months.
Day 3. After Loss Self Portrait – This was taken the night Adeline died. After everything settled down I was able to hold Liam for the first time since he was born. It was very therapeutic for both of us.
Day 4. Most Treasured Item
– This is the memory box that the NICU nurse put together for us. Inside are Adeline’s footprints, handprints,
a lock of her hair, the clothes and blanket we dressed her in after she died
and notes from the NICU nurses and doctors.
I also added her coming home outfit and the shell that she was baptized
with. I often visit this when I need to
feel close to her.
Day 5. Memorial
– I was feeling like we needed to have Adeline’s picture up in the house so
Sawyer and I we and had some printed up.
I found the picture in the middle on a twin loss website just after she
dies and it really spoke to me so I traced and modified it and added their
names and birth date. It is hung in our
living room where we can see her all the time.
Day 6. What Not To Say
Day 7. What To Say
Day 8. Jewlery – This is
Adeline’s necklace. It has her name
engraved on the back and her ashes inside so I can carry her with me wherever I
go.
Day 9. Special Place - My
favorite place in the whole world is it Beal family camp on Cathance Lake in
Washington County. I have always felt at home there and find myself relaxing as
soon as we pull in the driveway. I was very much looking forward to bringing
the twins for their first stay at camp this summer but was only able to bring
Liam. Addy was there with us though I think and I hope that she loves it as
much as I do.
Day 10. Symbol
- An angel because I believe that Addy is here with us watching
over Liam and Sawyer and will be their guardian angel always ♥
Day 11. Supportive
Friends/Family - A huge thanks to my
wonderful husband, beautiful kids and niece as well as my very supportive
family, the wonderful NICU nurses and new and old friends, for helping me
through the last 5 months. There are so many I cannot name you all but I
couldn't have made it this far without you all, and there is still a long way
to go.
Day 12. Scents
– ok this might be a weird one, but hospital soap. I love that smell, it makes me think about
the wonderful NICU, Addy’s home for her one day here on earth. I have so many, life changing, memories in
that place. Every time I smell that soap it takes me right back to the first
time I walked into the NICU to see my babies.
Day 13. Signs
- One of the signs that helped me the most happened one
day a couple of weeks ago. It was rainy and I was having a particularly sad
moment thinking of Liam and Addy talking and playing together. In that moment
the sun came out for the only time all day and came streaming in this window
right next to me. It was really as if she were there saying "don't be sad
mommy, here I am."
Day 14. Community –Our first "Baby loss community" event was 10/13/12 when we did Noah's walk. It was a wonderfully sad experience to be in a room with so many other people who were there to remember the babies they never got to bring home.
Day 15. WAVE of LIGHT Day - As today is international pregnancy and infant loss awareness day we lit our candle in honor of Addy and all of the babies who left too soon ♥
Day 16. Release – We
did not to a release since the idea of balloons, lanterns, etc. ending up in
the environment really bugs me. Instead
I chose to use a picture of the day that we “released” Adeline to be an angel. This is just shortly after she was extubated.
Day 17. Anniversary/Birthday/Due Dates- I already know that Addy's birthday will be a difficult day. Not just because it is her birthday, followed so closely by the anniversary of the day she died, but because it is also Liam's birthday, a day of happiness and celebration. I hope to celebrate her birthday along with his and use this as a time to remember and celebrate her far too short life.
Day 18. Your Family Portrait -
Our
beautiful family with Addy's remembrance candle.
Day 19. Project
– I do not have a good picture for this one as, I have a lot of great ideas,
but have been a bit short on time and energy.
I am planning to build a shelf and urn for Adeline’s ashes and I would
also like to crochet some baby blankets for Ronald McDonald House to replace
the ones that we were given.
Day 20. Charity/Organization
– The charity that had the biggest impact on us through the loss of Adeline and
our stay at the hospital with Liam was the Ronald McDonald House. They were amazing, providing us with a place
to live, eat, do laundry and just get away from the hospital. They gave us blankets for Liam and Sawyer,
provided toiletries when we ran out, wonderful dinners every night, snacks to
take back to the hospital as well as the chance to meet many wonderful
families. This place will forever hold a
place in my heart and someday, when life calms down a bit, I plan to take the
kids back there and be a guest chef.
Day
21. Altar/Shrine/Sacred Space – We plan to build a shelf in the
living room and a permanent urn for Adeline’s ashes. Until life settles down enough to do that her
ashes and the angels from her baptism are in our room looking over Liam’s bed.
Day
22. Place of Care/Birth – We own so much to the staff at the
MMC NICU. They provided Adeline and Liam
with the very best care possible. Aside
from the medical care, they also provided our family with more love and support
than I possibly could have imagined.
When it became clear that it was time to let Adeline go, they left all
of the decisions to us. We were never
rushed, never pushed and were provided with amazing support during the most
difficult day of our life. It is terrible
that these wonderful nurses and doctors have to have this skill set but I will
be forever grateful that they do!
Day
23. Their Name/Their Photo
Day
24. Siblings –
Day
25. Baby Shower/Blessing – My baby shower was extra special as
I got to share it with my sister, Amy.
It was also the last time that I saw my Uncle Kenny, who passed away,
suddenly, just 9 days before Adeline. I
know that he is taking great care of her in heaven, though I wish that they
could both be with us still <3.
Day
26. Their Age – One day in our arms but a lifetime in our
hearts <3
Day
27. Artwork – Looking ahead to this day’s subject inspired me
to actually buckle down and create some artwork that I had been envisioning for
a while.
Day
28. Memory
Day
29. Music – I don’t have a good one for this day. Try as I might I cannot think of a specific
song that reminds me of Adeline.
Everything reminds me of Adeline.
I will forever miss being able to sing her lullabies, teach her nursery
rhymes and listen to her beautiful
voice.
Day
30. Your Grief – Tell The World
Day
31. Sunset- Goodnight sweet girl
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Paradise Lost
I was back at Maine Medical Center the other day for Liam's kidney ultrasound. This was not the first time I had been back but it was the first time when we were all healthy and I actually had time to focus on how I felt about being back there. After being there for about 5 minutes, smelling the smells and hearing the sounds of the hospital a knot set up permanent residence in my stomach. This nauseating heartache stayed for the rest of our visit and made me think about the impact that this place has had on my life. As I walked through the hospital I was as usual greeted with a perfect view of Addy's NICU window, passed the entrance to the East Tower, where the NICU is, the courtyard where we sat and ate breakfast the morning after Adeline died and got my jello and chocolate milk fix in the cafeteria where we spent so much time during our hospital stay. Each step through the hospital twisted the knot in my stomach a little bit more. It may sound crazy to someone who has not experienced the NICU but I truly miss this place. I often joke that I am homesick for the NICU and this really is the best way I can describe it.
When Liam and Addy were in the NICU the doctors, nurses, respiratory therapists and all of the other staff we met, were wonderful. I can never express how thankful we are to all of them. From the time the babies were admitted, the doctors and nurses too care of all of us. We were included in their care, allowed and even encouraged, to talk to the babies, touch them and love them. When we were given the news of Adeline's diagnosis and prognosis the doctors came back to help us make sense of what was happening and spent alot of time talking to us, explaining the diagnosis, explaining her chances of survival, discussing our options and just listening to us talk, cry and ask hundreds of questions. We were never pushed to make a decision about Adeline, nor were we rushed once the decision was made. The doctors and nurses went out of their way to ensure that we were taken care of, that Adeline was taken care of. I will never forget how Addy's nurse stayed well beyond the end of her shift just so that she would be the one to take Addy down to the morgue. I will never forget how she loved Addy with us, grieved with us. How she sat down and gave me a hug when I started crying about 5 minute after I met her and told her that I had know that Adeline was a girl from the minute my pregnancy test came back positive. That night Liam's nurse let me hold him for the first time, brought me dinner and helped me put my horrendously swollen feet up. When I was finally ready to stumble, bleary eyed, back to the parent room off of the unit I looked around and realized how trashed the room was from the day of visitors and overflow from Adeline's room. Liam's nurse just smiled, helped me get the bags down to the parent room and told me not to worry about a thing
After Adeline died, the NICU remained my sanctuary. In the days and weeks following Addy's death the nurses and doctors continued to take wonderful care of all of us. One of the neonatologists spent almost an hour, on several occasions, looking at x-rays with me, comparing Liam and Addy's x-rays and explaining everything in great detail. He assured me that even if I had carried to term, Addy likely would not have survived. This helped greatly to relieve my guilt over wishing for the pregnancy to be over. He also explained in great detail how different Liam and Adeline's diagnoses were and how different the outcome would be. This was more helpful that he will probably ever know and I will be forever grateful that he took the time. I think the best part about the NICU was that there were no suprises and alot of support. Everyone knew that Adeline had died, everyone asked how we were doing, made sure that we were taking care of ourselves as well as Liam. There were so many reminders of Adeline on the unit but I knew where they all were. I could sit and look into her room and think about her on my terms, not be blindsided by something that reminded me of her. The doctors and nurses all asked if I wanted to change rooms several times. Liam and Adeline had been in adjoining, twin rooms and Liam remained in the room next to hers. I declined everytime and I feel like they went out of their way to respect my wish to stay where she had been.
This most recent trip back to the hospital was the first time that we have all been healthy and I had a little time to kill so I decided to visit the NICU. I thought this was a weird thing but I was assured by one of our nurses that it is not and people do it all the time. I pretty much wanted to see our nurses and doctors and most of all I wanted to see Addy's room again. Unfortunately, they were busy on the unit and we were not able to go up. As I stood at the guard station at the East tower, where I used to just wave and walk right by, I couldn't help feeling almost exiled. Kicked out of this place that was so wonderful, where so many of my best and worst memories are. I will definitely try to visit again if I ever find myself in Portland with a healthy baby and extra time but I don't think the NICU is really what I am missing. It is that protected, cared for feeling. The bubble that that the NICU provided for us when we were there. I will never be able to go back there.
When Liam and Addy were in the NICU the doctors, nurses, respiratory therapists and all of the other staff we met, were wonderful. I can never express how thankful we are to all of them. From the time the babies were admitted, the doctors and nurses too care of all of us. We were included in their care, allowed and even encouraged, to talk to the babies, touch them and love them. When we were given the news of Adeline's diagnosis and prognosis the doctors came back to help us make sense of what was happening and spent alot of time talking to us, explaining the diagnosis, explaining her chances of survival, discussing our options and just listening to us talk, cry and ask hundreds of questions. We were never pushed to make a decision about Adeline, nor were we rushed once the decision was made. The doctors and nurses went out of their way to ensure that we were taken care of, that Adeline was taken care of. I will never forget how Addy's nurse stayed well beyond the end of her shift just so that she would be the one to take Addy down to the morgue. I will never forget how she loved Addy with us, grieved with us. How she sat down and gave me a hug when I started crying about 5 minute after I met her and told her that I had know that Adeline was a girl from the minute my pregnancy test came back positive. That night Liam's nurse let me hold him for the first time, brought me dinner and helped me put my horrendously swollen feet up. When I was finally ready to stumble, bleary eyed, back to the parent room off of the unit I looked around and realized how trashed the room was from the day of visitors and overflow from Adeline's room. Liam's nurse just smiled, helped me get the bags down to the parent room and told me not to worry about a thing
After Adeline died, the NICU remained my sanctuary. In the days and weeks following Addy's death the nurses and doctors continued to take wonderful care of all of us. One of the neonatologists spent almost an hour, on several occasions, looking at x-rays with me, comparing Liam and Addy's x-rays and explaining everything in great detail. He assured me that even if I had carried to term, Addy likely would not have survived. This helped greatly to relieve my guilt over wishing for the pregnancy to be over. He also explained in great detail how different Liam and Adeline's diagnoses were and how different the outcome would be. This was more helpful that he will probably ever know and I will be forever grateful that he took the time. I think the best part about the NICU was that there were no suprises and alot of support. Everyone knew that Adeline had died, everyone asked how we were doing, made sure that we were taking care of ourselves as well as Liam. There were so many reminders of Adeline on the unit but I knew where they all were. I could sit and look into her room and think about her on my terms, not be blindsided by something that reminded me of her. The doctors and nurses all asked if I wanted to change rooms several times. Liam and Adeline had been in adjoining, twin rooms and Liam remained in the room next to hers. I declined everytime and I feel like they went out of their way to respect my wish to stay where she had been.
This most recent trip back to the hospital was the first time that we have all been healthy and I had a little time to kill so I decided to visit the NICU. I thought this was a weird thing but I was assured by one of our nurses that it is not and people do it all the time. I pretty much wanted to see our nurses and doctors and most of all I wanted to see Addy's room again. Unfortunately, they were busy on the unit and we were not able to go up. As I stood at the guard station at the East tower, where I used to just wave and walk right by, I couldn't help feeling almost exiled. Kicked out of this place that was so wonderful, where so many of my best and worst memories are. I will definitely try to visit again if I ever find myself in Portland with a healthy baby and extra time but I don't think the NICU is really what I am missing. It is that protected, cared for feeling. The bubble that that the NICU provided for us when we were there. I will never be able to go back there.
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