I've asked my kids a few times in the past weeks if they would like to have another baby (fyi: I'm not pregnant, but in the past I've enjoyed hearing my kids talk about possible future siblings). The answer has always been no, no, no. I couldn't figure it out because my kids have always wanted more babies and Samuel, especially, absolutely LOVES babies.
This morning, at breakfast, it came out that the kids thought that in order for us to have another baby, our sweet Nathan would have to die.
Oh, my God, no wonder they don't want another baby.
How could I have been so blind???
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Burn
On Friday, Samuel accidentally got pushed onto our wood stove. He held out his hands to stop from falling onto the stove and burned both his palms.
He is fine now. He was in a lot of pain when it happened and was screaming and screaming. Burns HURT. I did everything right...kept his hands in cold water, put flamazine on and colloidal silver spray...Tylenol for the pain as well as arnica for the trauma. But I felt so out of control. My heart was racing and I couldn't help the pain my child was in. I remembered the pain Eva was in and how there was nothing I could do then either...
I've known that losing Eva doesn't give the rest of my kids a free pass from death but, on some level, I thought maybe it might, kinda...but that night I really realized that Samuel could easily have severely burned his face instead of his hands or that he could get run over by the bobcat clearing snow or that he could, well, just die in his sleep...
I won't live in fear but that night was scary in the potential what if's it brought back to me...
He is fine now. He was in a lot of pain when it happened and was screaming and screaming. Burns HURT. I did everything right...kept his hands in cold water, put flamazine on and colloidal silver spray...Tylenol for the pain as well as arnica for the trauma. But I felt so out of control. My heart was racing and I couldn't help the pain my child was in. I remembered the pain Eva was in and how there was nothing I could do then either...
I've known that losing Eva doesn't give the rest of my kids a free pass from death but, on some level, I thought maybe it might, kinda...but that night I really realized that Samuel could easily have severely burned his face instead of his hands or that he could get run over by the bobcat clearing snow or that he could, well, just die in his sleep...
I won't live in fear but that night was scary in the potential what if's it brought back to me...
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Yearning
It's not the sadness that hurts so much. For truly I am not sad all the time.
It is the yearning. The longing for the unreachable that eats me up and spits me out.
I follow many babyloss and childloss blogs in my new found 'community' where I am understood better than I am by friends who share coffee with me.
It is the yearning for my daughter when I wake up in the morning that creates an ache in me.
It is not sadness over her death. It is the yearning, the longing...there are no words to explain that longing...always there...always dogging me...yearning yearning yearning...
Many of my fellow bloggers appear to be doing better than I. Many appear to be doing worse. How is it even possible to judge 'better' or 'worse' when dealing with the worst pain in the world...when processing the unthinkable.
I still can't believe sometimes that I had such a precious girl and that she should be THREE now. Three and cheeky. Three and cute. God, three!
And I yearn...but I yearn more for the baby than the little girl. I wish for the little girl but I yearn for the Eva I held in my arms. The 15 pounds of preciousness. I yearn for that girl. To hold her in my arms and snuggle that 15 pounds.
Oh, to hold you again my precious one.
It is the yearning. The longing for the unreachable that eats me up and spits me out.
I follow many babyloss and childloss blogs in my new found 'community' where I am understood better than I am by friends who share coffee with me.
It is the yearning for my daughter when I wake up in the morning that creates an ache in me.
It is not sadness over her death. It is the yearning, the longing...there are no words to explain that longing...always there...always dogging me...yearning yearning yearning...
Many of my fellow bloggers appear to be doing better than I. Many appear to be doing worse. How is it even possible to judge 'better' or 'worse' when dealing with the worst pain in the world...when processing the unthinkable.
I still can't believe sometimes that I had such a precious girl and that she should be THREE now. Three and cheeky. Three and cute. God, three!
And I yearn...but I yearn more for the baby than the little girl. I wish for the little girl but I yearn for the Eva I held in my arms. The 15 pounds of preciousness. I yearn for that girl. To hold her in my arms and snuggle that 15 pounds.
Oh, to hold you again my precious one.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Mine
I was watching some of the few home movies we have of Eva yesterday.
God I miss that girl like you wouldn't believe.
I know that there are many who are missing their children but Eva was, well, MINE.
And I'm so ready to just have her back already.
Friday, November 15, 2013
November 15th
Eva would be 3 years 1 month old today.
She would be a sparkling little girl, with a mind of her own, going by her personality as a baby.
She would have thick brown hair (going by her brothers' hair).
It would be cut in a little shoulder length bob with bangs, going by my taste in little girl hair.
She would have dancing blue eyes.
She would have a scar on her chest.
I would hold her close and breathe her in, knowing we almost lost her in 2011.
Ah, alternate universe, how you taunt me?
Miss you so much my little princess Eva.
She would be a sparkling little girl, with a mind of her own, going by her personality as a baby.
She would have thick brown hair (going by her brothers' hair).
It would be cut in a little shoulder length bob with bangs, going by my taste in little girl hair.
She would have dancing blue eyes.
She would have a scar on her chest.
I would hold her close and breathe her in, knowing we almost lost her in 2011.
Ah, alternate universe, how you taunt me?
Miss you so much my little princess Eva.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Seven months
Nathan is seven months old today. He is already moving so much more than our Eva ever did.
How could I not have seen that she was weak? How come I did not push harder right at this point?
At seven months I was worried about Eva's lack of weight gain. We had an appointment in two weeks with the paediatrician.
At 7 months my mommy radar was bleeping ever so quietly. But, never in my wildest nightmares did I think that she would be in ICU one month later and dead two months after that.
How could I not have seen that she was weak? How come I did not push harder right at this point?
At seven months I was worried about Eva's lack of weight gain. We had an appointment in two weeks with the paediatrician.
At 7 months my mommy radar was bleeping ever so quietly. But, never in my wildest nightmares did I think that she would be in ICU one month later and dead two months after that.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Surreal
I had a moment of unreality yesterday. It was surreal...like an image overlapped on what could have been...
I walked down the hall and bent down to pick up Nathan who was sitting on the floor. I had a glimpse of the fact that he could so easily have not been here at all...and without Eva, he almost certainly wouldn't have been.
One of those moments where you wonder how the future would change if you could go back in time and change the one thing that was your heart's desire.
My life is often surreal...
...when I give away Little J's size 3 clothes instead of keeping them for Eva.
...when I nurse Nathan in the night and marvel at his perfection.
...when I get up (again) when he is crying and think that Eva would be sleeping for sure.
...when I set out the dinner plates and sometimes (yes, still) put out the wrong number of plates.
...when I take Little J to a girls only party that I should have taken two girls to.
...when I whisper good night to my child in heaven.
...when I weep while driving and (yes, still) can't believe this is my life.
...when I hear of other people's miracles...and smile through my unshed tears for their good fortune.
...when I count my blessings, and one of them is missing, though she blesses me nonetheless.
...when I open the door and forget, for the slightest of moments, that she is gone.
...when I order those stupid family stickers, and need to make sure to get one with a halo.
...when I am surprised by joy and forget again that she is not and will never be here to share it with me.
...when I contemplate the sheer magnitude of the years ahead of me on this green earth.
...when I head count in the van and there is always a sense of unease, as if not everyone is there...and that's just it, not everyone is and never will be again.
...when I look at all those happy families around me and marvel at the fact that they get to keep all their children.
...when I hold Nathan in my arms and he smiles the sweetest of milky smiles at me and I love that smile beyond words...and I know he could go at any time.
I walked down the hall and bent down to pick up Nathan who was sitting on the floor. I had a glimpse of the fact that he could so easily have not been here at all...and without Eva, he almost certainly wouldn't have been.
One of those moments where you wonder how the future would change if you could go back in time and change the one thing that was your heart's desire.
My life is often surreal...
...when I give away Little J's size 3 clothes instead of keeping them for Eva.
...when I nurse Nathan in the night and marvel at his perfection.
...when I get up (again) when he is crying and think that Eva would be sleeping for sure.
...when I set out the dinner plates and sometimes (yes, still) put out the wrong number of plates.
...when I take Little J to a girls only party that I should have taken two girls to.
...when I whisper good night to my child in heaven.
...when I weep while driving and (yes, still) can't believe this is my life.
...when I hear of other people's miracles...and smile through my unshed tears for their good fortune.
...when I count my blessings, and one of them is missing, though she blesses me nonetheless.
...when I open the door and forget, for the slightest of moments, that she is gone.
...when I order those stupid family stickers, and need to make sure to get one with a halo.
...when I am surprised by joy and forget again that she is not and will never be here to share it with me.
...when I contemplate the sheer magnitude of the years ahead of me on this green earth.
...when I head count in the van and there is always a sense of unease, as if not everyone is there...and that's just it, not everyone is and never will be again.
...when I look at all those happy families around me and marvel at the fact that they get to keep all their children.
...when I hold Nathan in my arms and he smiles the sweetest of milky smiles at me and I love that smile beyond words...and I know he could go at any time.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Too risky.
The reason I have not been posting is because it feels too risky to my heart these days. I like to be real on my blog. I don't want to sugar coat here like I am able to in real life. I don't want to paste on the smile here that I am able to in public. Here is where I bare my heart in grieving Eva. Here is where my thoughts always return to her. Here is where I connect with other parents walking a similar road.
And that smile you see in public? It's not always fake or sugar coated. There is REAL JOY in my life. It's just that my very REAL SADNESS is also there. My joy and grief; they hold hands, always...I don't even really know how to adequately express this hand holding to those who don't know, with clarity, exactly what I mean.
But this much is also true. In the early, raw, black, bottomless pit days of losing Eva I told people about this blog. I invited people to read it. I felt like I NEEDED everyone to know how heartbroken and devastated I was over losing Eva. As if the more people who knew about her somehow validated her life, and my feelings. I still am heartbroken but back then there was NOT ONE OUNCE OF JOY. Now I can honestly say that joy is back in my life. But I'm still sad too. No matter how much healing Nathan has given me. No matter how much joy I can have in a day, when the sun sets and I go to bed, she is still dead. And I am still rent with grief. My grief for Eva is not me living in the past. It is a reflection of her value and my love for her.
I digress, so, I invited people to read here. Yes I did. And mostly I have not regretted it. But in one instance I have sincerely regretted it. Someone who (it feels) has stood in judgement over me from Autumn (doesn't Autumn sound so much more lovely than Fall?) 2011 onwards. Someone who has never commented on my blog but who reads it often enough to make a remark here and there. Someone who should have a semblance of an idea how much it sucks to have a dead child, but who has never cradled the lifeless body of their own precious child in their arms (and I would not wish it on any of their lovely children). Someone who is the recipient of my in real life pasted on smile.
And this leads me to why I'm not posting so much. As time has (unfathomably) moved on from the most horrible day in August 2011 I have found that I just really don't NEED anyone to read this. It is not a reflection of my value or of Eva's if people read this blog or not. I just want to be real. I want other bereaved parents to see that I am still breathing two years later. I want people who truly care to read my blog. People who would like to reach out to a newly bereaved parent and have a semblance of an idea of what to say (or not to say). People who would really like to know how we are doing but not out of morbid curiosity...And I can't be real with this someone because they would not communicate with me in real life when there was a real problem.
If someone can be so hurtful in real life, it makes me wonder what they think in private as they sit there relaxing with their healthy children around them drinking a cup of tea and thinking...hmmm...let's just pop in and see how Em is doing these days....we won't support her in real life, but let's just pop in and see how Em is managing two years from the death of her child...oh my, she is not doing well...she is really not getting over the death of her child...how could she be so attached to that baby...Eva was only 10 months old when she died...oh my, her other children still talk about Eva...they must have an unhealthy relationship with their dead sister...Em must just push it on them all the time...oh, they're doing a Ride in honour of Eva...good grief, some people will take anything to the extreme...and they hang a stocking for her! Land sakes, they are really heading for the loony bin in that house...and a pink candle too...you have got to be kidding me...and she has Little J now, and Nathan, how can she still be harping on about Eva all the time...*you'd think she should be grateful for the children she has...*
For clarity's sake no one has actually said all these things to me all in one go. And I'm not claiming this to be real it's my 'twisted' imaginings of what I contemplate this someone to be thinking of me...so you can understand here that it's pretty darn hard to be real when someone who I think is thinking these thoughts about me is reading here and who I have to face in real life, with a clenching heart every time we cross paths...
A note to most of my dear, in real life, caring readers, I am grateful for your support, for your presence in my life, and, especially for how you mention Eva's name, unprompted...thank you.
*And, oh my word, I am so incredibly grateful for the children I have. So.Incredibly.Grateful. But my heart whispers in the background of the joy and the gratefulness...I still miss Eva...I still miss Eva...
And that smile you see in public? It's not always fake or sugar coated. There is REAL JOY in my life. It's just that my very REAL SADNESS is also there. My joy and grief; they hold hands, always...I don't even really know how to adequately express this hand holding to those who don't know, with clarity, exactly what I mean.
But this much is also true. In the early, raw, black, bottomless pit days of losing Eva I told people about this blog. I invited people to read it. I felt like I NEEDED everyone to know how heartbroken and devastated I was over losing Eva. As if the more people who knew about her somehow validated her life, and my feelings. I still am heartbroken but back then there was NOT ONE OUNCE OF JOY. Now I can honestly say that joy is back in my life. But I'm still sad too. No matter how much healing Nathan has given me. No matter how much joy I can have in a day, when the sun sets and I go to bed, she is still dead. And I am still rent with grief. My grief for Eva is not me living in the past. It is a reflection of her value and my love for her.
I digress, so, I invited people to read here. Yes I did. And mostly I have not regretted it. But in one instance I have sincerely regretted it. Someone who (it feels) has stood in judgement over me from Autumn (doesn't Autumn sound so much more lovely than Fall?) 2011 onwards. Someone who has never commented on my blog but who reads it often enough to make a remark here and there. Someone who should have a semblance of an idea how much it sucks to have a dead child, but who has never cradled the lifeless body of their own precious child in their arms (and I would not wish it on any of their lovely children). Someone who is the recipient of my in real life pasted on smile.
And this leads me to why I'm not posting so much. As time has (unfathomably) moved on from the most horrible day in August 2011 I have found that I just really don't NEED anyone to read this. It is not a reflection of my value or of Eva's if people read this blog or not. I just want to be real. I want other bereaved parents to see that I am still breathing two years later. I want people who truly care to read my blog. People who would like to reach out to a newly bereaved parent and have a semblance of an idea of what to say (or not to say). People who would really like to know how we are doing but not out of morbid curiosity...And I can't be real with this someone because they would not communicate with me in real life when there was a real problem.
If someone can be so hurtful in real life, it makes me wonder what they think in private as they sit there relaxing with their healthy children around them drinking a cup of tea and thinking...hmmm...let's just pop in and see how Em is doing these days....we won't support her in real life, but let's just pop in and see how Em is managing two years from the death of her child...oh my, she is not doing well...she is really not getting over the death of her child...how could she be so attached to that baby...Eva was only 10 months old when she died...oh my, her other children still talk about Eva...they must have an unhealthy relationship with their dead sister...Em must just push it on them all the time...oh, they're doing a Ride in honour of Eva...good grief, some people will take anything to the extreme...and they hang a stocking for her! Land sakes, they are really heading for the loony bin in that house...and a pink candle too...you have got to be kidding me...and she has Little J now, and Nathan, how can she still be harping on about Eva all the time...*you'd think she should be grateful for the children she has...*
For clarity's sake no one has actually said all these things to me all in one go. And I'm not claiming this to be real it's my 'twisted' imaginings of what I contemplate this someone to be thinking of me...so you can understand here that it's pretty darn hard to be real when someone who I think is thinking these thoughts about me is reading here and who I have to face in real life, with a clenching heart every time we cross paths...
A note to most of my dear, in real life, caring readers, I am grateful for your support, for your presence in my life, and, especially for how you mention Eva's name, unprompted...thank you.
*And, oh my word, I am so incredibly grateful for the children I have. So.Incredibly.Grateful. But my heart whispers in the background of the joy and the gratefulness...I still miss Eva...I still miss Eva...
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Who cares?
The thing that bothers me the most about my grief is that it's all about me.
What I want to do is an update on Eva. The update I would do in an alternate, happier, reality.
How things are progressing, how we're all adjusting to living in the city or something, to be closer to medical care, how Eva is managing after surgery, how much we enjoy staying at RMH when were in Edmonton, how her birthday party was, how we went to galaxyland with all the kids...etc...
I don't give a crap how *my* grief is. My f-ing grief never ends. Sure, it's lighter, easier to bear...etc...etc.. But it's always there. Just there. And what I want is Eva. Plain and Simple.
I still find myself surprised sometimes that this is my life.
So full, and yet so empty.
So good, and yet so bereft.
I could go on and on...
And, I'm tired of writing about *my* grief, *my* anger. I'm tired of writing and I know people are tired of reading. Everything I want to write, I've written before. The regurgitated feelings of grief and sadness and despair and hope. You've heard them all before. They're still there. Lighter, yes. But still the same on so many levels. And who wants to read the same thing all over again, and again...
Who even reads anyway? Who even cares...If I don't?
oh, and then there are the people I wish didn't read. The ones I can't stop unless I make the blog private, which I don't feel like doing...although it is a consideration.
What I want to do is an update on Eva. The update I would do in an alternate, happier, reality.
How things are progressing, how we're all adjusting to living in the city or something, to be closer to medical care, how Eva is managing after surgery, how much we enjoy staying at RMH when were in Edmonton, how her birthday party was, how we went to galaxyland with all the kids...etc...
I don't give a crap how *my* grief is. My f-ing grief never ends. Sure, it's lighter, easier to bear...etc...etc.. But it's always there. Just there. And what I want is Eva. Plain and Simple.
I still find myself surprised sometimes that this is my life.
So full, and yet so empty.
So good, and yet so bereft.
I could go on and on...
And, I'm tired of writing about *my* grief, *my* anger. I'm tired of writing and I know people are tired of reading. Everything I want to write, I've written before. The regurgitated feelings of grief and sadness and despair and hope. You've heard them all before. They're still there. Lighter, yes. But still the same on so many levels. And who wants to read the same thing all over again, and again...
Who even reads anyway? Who even cares...If I don't?
oh, and then there are the people I wish didn't read. The ones I can't stop unless I make the blog private, which I don't feel like doing...although it is a consideration.
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