Christmas

My favourite holiday ever is was Christmas.  I love getting presents for people.  Seeing the looks on their faces when they unwrap the perfect gift I have found for them.  I still love that part, but Christmas has lost all of its magic now.

Like absolutely everything in this "new" life, this Christmas was supposed to be SO different.  We should have an almost 9 month old baby boy.  I don't think he would be old enough to understand, but he would be old enough that Christmas would have been fun.

Ever since DH and I moved in with my folks we have gone to a hotel to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas morning alone.  We planned on doing that this year with Ethan too.  

Instead of my gorgeous little boy rocking on a wooden rocking horse, his ashes sat in our fireproof safe.

Instead of DH and I showering Ethan with gifts, we showered him with as much love as we and a bunch of family and friends could muster.

This year, we asked family and friends to write a note to Ethan for his stocking.  So, this Christmas morning, we woke up in our hotel room, our huge hotel room that could have fit Ethan's crib, toys, change table... I digress.  We read all of the letters that everyone had given us for Ethan.  And they were beautiful.  And we cried.  It was a really rough morning.  But it was also so nice.  Much like our lives right now, contradictory. 

We are so thankful to the people who took the time to write Ethan a little note.  It helped us get through Christmas knowing that people still think about our little boy.  That he is not forgotten.  We were actually surprised by some people who did take the time to write.  We didn't expect some people to write, and we didn't expect such touching letters from some people.  Likewise, we were also sadly surprised by the people who didn't write a letter.  But I guess you take the good with the bad.  That constant contradiction that is now our lives.

So, we survived our first Christmas without Ethan.  It was hard and if I could have one wish it would be that no one ever has to go through babyloss ever again.

Work

So, I am officially back at work now. Nearly 8 months since I had originally gone off on maternity leave...

For the most part, it hasn't been too bad.  I generally enjoy what I do and I think I am pretty good at my job.  I love my boss, so work isn't bad itself.  But what it represents is just another daily reminder of what isn't.  I should still be on mat leave, complaining that Ethan is teething.  Not complaining that I have to wake up so early to go to work.

And then there are the people.  The lovely, ignorant people.  The well wishing people.  The people who wish me a cheery "welcome back!" as if I have been on a glorious sabbatical.  I haven't figured out a good comeback for those people yet.  

If it weren't for the people, work would be much better.  I went for coffee in our cafeteria one day and got bombarded by one lady who told me every single cliche that you should not say.  I got "you have to believe everything happens for a reason". "He is an angel now". "You have to stay strong". "God is going to bless you in other ways". Among others that I can't remember now.  It was like verbal diarrhea coming out of this lady's mouth and I was in too much shock to say anything in return.   

Here's the deal with me.  I don't know if I believe in God.  Prior to Ethan, I was struggling with what I believed.  After Ethan?  Hmph.  But guess what?  If you tell me that your god has taken my son from me and will bless me in other ways, I never ever want to meet your god.  As far as I am concerned, your god is an asshole.  If your god lets babies die, babies born to parents who have dreamed of this day their entire lives, your god is an asshole.  You are not doing your god justice.

So now, instead of being the social person I was at work, I keep my head down.  I avoid people.  I avoid the cafeteria.  I avoid any social functions.  As much as I can, I avoid going anywhere by myself.

I am pretty angry.  I really wish everyone would just leave me alone.

Guilt

I miss Ethan like crazy.  Every time I see a baby commercial.  Every time I see a cute outfit.  All day, every day.

But when I feel happy for anything else, I am plagued with guilt.  Plagued.  I don't know how to stop it.  If I am excited about anything, I feel terrible guilt that Ethan isn't here.  That some how I have not included him.  And so I cry. 

I don't know how to resolve this.

Capture Your Grief. Day 31. Sunset

Much like the sunrise day, I didn't catch the sunset. It was a pretty rainy day.

I know I have missed a few days and topics. Some I just didn't know how to properly capture the picture. I may go back and do them.  Or I may just write down what I think about them.

I think this whole process of "capturing my grief" has taught me a lot about myself. It has been a wonderful, and crappy at the same time, event to participate in. I hope I will do this next year and compare the two.

I like that the closing is of the sunset. It feels complete.

Thank you everyone for reading my postings and for commenting on them. As us bereaved parents say all the time, there isn't anything better in the world than people bringing up the names of our children. People thinking about them. Remembering funny stories while we were pregnant etc. So thank you.

Capture Your Grief. Day 26. Community.

This is a pic of my neighbour's tree. It's a cute little tree but I think it represents my "community" well. Much like a family tree.

The branches of this tree are my family, I've mentioned it before but I have an amazing family and the world's best brother, my friends (each one of you have done something to help me on this grief path), my neighbours (one day I was so overwhelmed with grief and no one was home at my house so I had to ask them for a hug), and especially all of the wonderful people I have met in the Baby Loss Community - my facebook friends and especially all of my Twitter friends.  Even my friends on Twitter from the IF community.  You all have been so wonderful.

Since Ethan died, I have surrounded myself with great friends and family members who are understanding, patient and amazing. I have also surrounded myself with other Baby Loss Mommas and have made some amazing friendships, all stemming from the ridiculous fact that our babies have died. It is an unbearable pain that I am so sad to say but am so fortunate to share with such amazing other people.

Capture Your Grief. Day 25. #Sayitoutloud

It is funny that I didn't put this one on my blog and on twitter earlier, since it has a hashtag and I love twitter.

 

 

 

We were supposed to bring you home in your carseat, not in an ugly plastic box.

Nothing will ever make this right. Nothing. Ever.

Please don't tell me that we will feel better in time. Time only brings what we won't have. Halloween came and went. That was almost 7 months. We weren't able to dress Ethan in the costumes we bought for him. In 3 years time, he should be starting school. In 16 years, getting his license. There will always be something. Time does not heal. It only provides you with an opportunity to learn how to cope.

Please don't say anything with "at least" at the beginning of your sentence. Someone said to me "at least you know now that you can carry a baby full term". I cannot publish that words I have for that.

Capture Your Grief. Day 24. Artwork

This is my Ethan collection:





The rock is a rock that my aunt's (again, best aunt ever) 8 year old son scouted and found from a beach in France as a perfect "Ethan rock". My little cousin wrote Ethan's name on it, drew a soccer ball and a home (because "that is where Ethan lives").

The middle picture is a painting that my aunt had someone do at the base of the Eiffel Tower. I cried like an insane person when she gave it to me. It was and still is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen (besides Ethan of course).

The bottom is a photograph that I got from Chandler Photography. It is a huge photo that was taken, I believe, in her backyard. We also have a second photo of this Ethan flower. We have the second photo hanging above the dinner table at the cottage.

Capture Your Grief. Day 23. Tattoos/Jewellery

Mark and I both have tattoos in memory of Ethan. You can find mine on day 3 and 11 of my Capture Your Grief.

When we were in Cuba in May, thanks to the generosity of our fabulous friends, even though I had brought pictures of Ethan, I felt like I was so far away from him. So Mark and I bought an Ethan bracelet. It was a metal bracelet with blue beads on it. It was something that was nice and yet looked sort of masculine too. We thought that it would be something that Ethan would buy for me. And it made me feel a bit closer to him. I can't find that bracelet today...

 

The rest is my collection of Ethan jewellery so far. Everything I have makes me feel closer to him. From left to right:

1) Ethan owl necklace. When we visited with Ethan in the funeral home, he sort of looked like an owl. I am so happy that owls are "in" right now...

2) E necklace. My amazing aunt (same one who does amazing things for me all the time) got me this necklace.

3) Ethan broken heart necklace. This necklace was free from a charity called August Wings. They provide bereaved mothers with a two necklaces, a half broken heart with your baby's name on it, and another small broken heart that you can keep with your baby. I wear this necklace basically every day, under my clothes. The other half of the necklace is with Ethan's ashes.

4) Blue dragonfly necklace from Jewellery Designs by Anastasia. A lot of the babyloss community sees dragonflies as signs from their loved ones. This summer at the cottage, I was out on the lake when the neighbours came up with their little boy. I was feeling so sad when a blue dragonfly came and landed on me and stayed with me for the entire time I was out there. So now I associate blue dragonflies with Ethan too.

5) A beautiful bracelet that the owner of Jewellery Designs by Anastasia gave to me in memory of Ethan.

6) A ring that says "My Forever Love, Ethan"

I feel like I am missing more and if so, I will post them later.

I keep all of my Ethan collection separate from the rest of my stuff in a jewellery box that my brother gave me. I figure he is one of the most, if not the most connected family members to Ethan, so it is appropriate.

Capture Your Grief. Day 22. Words.

 


"Code Pink", the nurses called shortly after Ethan was born. 

And then we knew it was bad. 

With those two simple little words, our world came crashing down, our hearts broke. 

We lost all faith and hope. 

We lost Ethan.

Capture Your Grief. Day 21. Honour.

We try to honour Ethan any way we can possibly think of. We talk to him, we show him things, we tell everyone and anyone about him.

We showed him where we got engaged... we tell him about the changing seasons.

I hate quoting Glee, but the mom of Finn said it best "how do you go on being a parent when your child has died?".

It is so hard.

Capture Your Grief. Day 20. Hope

A big photo of nothingness? Yup, that's about right. I do not have any hope anymore. It's so easy for people to say "you'll have another", but in reality, it's not that easy.

Ethan was 4 years, almost to the day, in the making. FOUR YEARS!

Ethan was supposed to be our "rainbow baby". The baby that comes after the storm of losing other babies. We didn't even know this term until he died. But we did see rainbows. Every single time we were worried about our pregnancy with him, rainbows would appear.

Why? We assumed it was meant as a sign that everything was going to be okay. Did we ever assume wrong.

Ethan was our third pregnancy. And our third loss. We were HOPING that when I was pregnant it would be our third time lucky. But look where that hope got us.

So when it comes to "hope", it's garbage and just another let down.

I hate quoting Glee but Sue Sylvester said it best:

"there is no lesson here, there is no happy ending, there's just nothing. he's just gone" 

  

Capture Your Grief. Day 17. Time

Let me start this off by saying that time, in no way, heals all things. Time will not bring Ethan back to us.


Time... when I was in labour with Ethan they intermittently monitored his heart rate. They had no reason to constantly monitor it. Because I am no stranger to lawsuits, I obviously ordered my hospital records as soon as I could. Here is what I found:

2:07 a.m. - Ethan's heart rate was 133 bpm
2:19 a.m. - Ethan was delivered
2:48 a.m. - resuscitation attempts were stopped and Ethan's death was called

So, time? 12 minutes. Somewhere within 12 minutes, Ethan died and no one knew. It could have been right after his heart rate was taken, it could have been closer to when he was delivered... Some say 13 is an unlucky number, I say they are wrong, it's 12.

Capture Your Grief. Day 16. Seasons

Ethan was born and died on April 2, 2013. It was just beginning to become nice outside. And I was SO angry that nature was coming alive but my son was dead. I love the outdoors so that was pretty hard on me.

Mark and I went to the cottage one night, shortly after Ethan died, and there was a crazy flash freezing. It looked like the ice storm from back in college. There was ice on everything! And it felt, to me, like nature was taking a moment to remember Ethan. It was being still and honouring him.

Summer came and I love the heat so that was great.

But now fall is here. And the leaves are changing colour and beautiful, but then are falling and dying. And it's just sad. Here we are, going into another cold season, without our baby. Last year we had so much hope and happiness around this time. This year it's just cold.

Capture Your Grief. Day 15. Wave of Light.

All across the world, bereaved parents light a candle at 7:00 p.m., local time, on October 15 to honour their babies who have died. So for 24 hours, there is a wave of light...

PAIL Network coordinated with the people at Niagara Falls and the CN Tower.  The CN Tower was supposed to be lit up in blue, pink and white for this day.  Unfortunately, it wasn't.  It was random colours.

We met with a bunch of other bereaved parents at a park across the street from the CN Tower with our candles and honoured our babies.  I was so dismayed to be meeting at a park.  A park where all of our children should be playing together but never will.  

It was such a disorganized event, if you could even call it an event.  All around the world people lit candles at 7:00 p.m., but this event started at 8:00 p.m.  

We will not be going back next year.






I knew that this day existed because of our miscarriages and I have changed my facebook status in previous years. But since Ethan died, this day now seems even more important. And sad. But so important for awareness.

Some other baby loss mommas I know lit a candle for Ethan, or set up lanterns with his name on them.  So beautiful and yet so sad.

 

Capture Your Grief. Day 14. Family

Mark and I will always have an Ethan-sized hole in our family. He is our family. And he isn't here.  No matter if we have future children or not.  He will always be missing.  Always.  I wish that people could understand that.  That even though I write that on Facebook that people would let it sink in.  When my grandma died, she didn't stop being my grandma, or my mom's mom.  Ethan will always be my son.  He will always be part of our family.  And I will ALWAYS miss him.  In good times and in bad times.  He will always be missing.  It infuriates me that people don't get that.

As to the rest of my family... we all know that I have the world's best brother. Hearing my brother refer to Ethan as his nephew makes my heart sing. Having my brother tell me that he misses Ethan... again, World's Best Brother. And my parents are amazing too. They know that I am not a hands-on type griever. I like to be alone and they give me that space. But I also have the world's best auntie. My Aunt Frannie went to France and while there, she thought about Ethan! She got me that hand painted Ethan painting, along with a bunch of other amazing Ethan things...

And then there is my family who aren't technically my family... all of my amazing friends. My twitter friends, each of you has done something to help me through this horrible time.  I don't know where I would be if I didn't have you guys to talk to.  To have someone on call at all hours of the day from all around to world to cry to, bitch to, etc. You really are my family.

I am SO incredibly angry that my family will always be missing my handsome little guy. But I am so thankfully that "my family" is amazing.

 

 

A special thank you shout out to our amazing friends Jenny and Mike for giving us some Ethan stones.  They are one of our most treasured gifts and we love them.

Capture Your Grief. Day 13. Books.

Better late than never?

When Ethan first died and I felt good enough to leave the house, I went straight to the library and picked up as many books as I could on grief and baby loss. They helped me understand that every crazy thought and feeling I was having was absolutely normal. They taught me that I was not depressed, I was grieving and that was okay. I knew from reading them that as dark as the days were, there would be light again.

But the book I have chosen for this topic is a book called Curly from Shirley. It is a book that my amazing, talented cousin, Emma Pullar, wrote. Emma used to live in Christchurch, New Zealand, where all of those horrible earthquakes were. She wanted to help out so she wrote a children's book and all of the profits go to helping. I just read that it has raised over one million dollars!!

Emma mailed me this book when she heard about Ethan. In no way am I comparing a dead baby to an earthquake, but having the book and knowing that so many people went through such a ridiculously hard time helped.

The people of Christchurch are rebuilding. Or have rebuilt. And they will never be who they were before. Which is the exact same as Mark and I. We have to rebuild ourselves, our family. We will never be the same without Ethan. He was loved and so wanted. But we have to rebuild.

Today

I am very behind on my Capture Your Grief photos on my blog.  I have been uploading them to Facebook.  I feel like they will do more good there.  They will explain to my IRL friends how I'm feeling.  I will update them to here shortly.  Hopefully over the weekend.

Today DH and I both have headaches, probably because of the crazy weather.  It's so cold and damp.  I already miss the summer

I am in the middle of making breakfast for him (yes, I realize it's the afternoon).  And some Madonna song came on and I did a bit of a kitchen dance.  Only to realize that I was alone and doing a kitchen dance... that must mean I have forgotten about Ethan right?  Cue the tears.  Then I remember that I was pregnant with Ethan when I went to the Madonna concert.  It was a pretty racey concert (Madonna, racey, no way!) and I told the baby to put on its earmuffs for some songs... I am happy Ethan's life was full of love and music but I would do anything to have him here.

So then I'm over crying but I'm still feeling sad.  And Michael Buble's "Just Haven't Met You Yet" song comes on.  And I know that is a song that our friends used to sing or relate to their gorgeous baby girl who also didn't make it.

Then after that song, some other song comes on about not being able to survive.

I wish that I could explain to people who haven't gone through this just how hard it is.  How almost every little thing reminds us of what we should, but don't have.

I can picture Ethan sitting in his bumbo or another thing, watching me make his daddy breakfast... I so wish he was here.

Capture Your Grief. Day 12. Article.

I don't have any specific article in mind.  I think almost all of the articles that Still Standing Magazine posts are relevant.  You can check them out on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/StillStandingMAG.

Capture Your Grief. Day 11. Triggers.

When you do not have your baby in your arms, every single second of every single day is a trigger.  But you learn to live with it.  You learn how to live without what should be.  And at the beginning, you don't think you'll ever make it out of the darkness.  But slowly, you do.

But then there are the triggers.  The things that catch you off guard.  And there are so many.  And they deserve listing.  Because unless you have lived this hell, you can't even imagine just how many things will bother you.

As I thought about triggers on October 12th... keep in mind that I am still a few days behind on this whole thing...

We were walking to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and walked into people doing a Breast Cancer Walk.  Last year we did a breast cancer walk and that is where I told the majority of my coworkers that I was pregnant.  And we had planned on doing the walk this year, with the baby. 

Then when we got to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, they put a wristband on me and I almost lost it.  I was pretty hysterical.  It was like having the hospital wristband on and it was horrible.  I started freaking out and we almost left... But thankfully, I have the world's best husband and he was able to calm me down.  Ahh, PTSD, if I didn't think I suffered from you before...

The list below was written by Erica Pacey, who delivered her handsome son Mason on January 6th, 2013 at 37.5 weeks.  Mason was 7lbs 3oz and was 21" long...  I have deleted some of her comments that didn't apply to us:

"Things that Sting

~ Hearing the monitors of the baby in the next room's heartbeat
~ Hearing that baby cry when it enters this world
~ Calling your 'when baby arrives call list' to tell them 'he didn't make it' and hearing them gasp and cry
~ Seeing your baby's family & family friends breaking from the inside out while holding their nephew
~ Handing over your baby to the nurses knowing you will never see him again
~ Leaving the hospital with an empty car seat
~ Walking into your home with empty arms
~ Seeing a baby swing and playpen in your living room that are waiting for a baby that isn't coming home
~ Having a home being decorated in sympathy cards and flowers
~ When your milk comes in to feed your baby that isn't with you
~ Seeing your first pregnant woman
~ Seeing your first living baby
~ Listening to parents of young children complain of the woes of parenthood
~ Receiving baby coupons and formula samples in the mail
~ Picking out a casket for your baby - Thankfully our funeral director took care of that
~ Picking out an urn for your baby - we haven't done this yet, nothing seems good enough for Ethan so his ashes are just in the little plastic box from the crematorium
~ Knowing what time your baby is being cremated
~ Picking up your baby's ashes from the funeral home
~ Picking a place to put your baby's urn
~ Waking up after a dream where you were with your baby again
~ Going grocery shopping for the first time since saying goodbye to your baby and remembering all the things you loved to eat while pregnant
~ Hearing people say 'he is in a better place' or 'God needed another angel'
~ Losing control of yourself and your life
~ Watching life go on without you for awhile
~ Meeting other women and men that have experienced the same loss and realizing you can't be ignorant anymore
~ Being a statistic
~ Being told you have post traumatic stress syndrome, post partum depression and high level anxiety
~ Seeing people's pity face
~ Hearing people's pity voice
~ Receiving your baby's death certificate in the mail
~ Not receiving your baby's birth certificate in the mail
~ Being asked 'where is your baby?' in an excited voice
~ Feeling guilty when you hear yourself laughing for the first time in months
~ Realizing if you had just had your baby a day earlier he would be here
~ Watching babies that are the same age as your baby would have been growing, laughing, learning and doing 'firsts'
~ Hearing through the grapevine why someone 'thinks' your baby died
~ Seeing the clock hit 4:46pm or 11am - for us it is 2:19 a.m.
~ Sundays remind you of the day you met your baby - for us it's Tuesdays
~ Mondays remind you of the day you last held your baby - for us it's Tuesdays
~ Thursdays remind you of the day you picked up your baby's ashes from the funeral home - Sundays
~ Days that you lose hope
~ Dusting a crib, dresser, stroller, but not picking up toys
~ Seeing tags hanging from baby clothes in your baby's closet
~ Accidentally opening the cupboard containing the baby bottles and sterilizer while looking for something
~ Seeing a book called 'baby's first year' sitting on your baby's bookshelf with nothing written in it
~ Watching your partner watching his first football game of the season without his son
~ watching parents unload strollers and babies from their cars numerous times a day when the view from your home is a huge parking lot - or at the store, or anywhere else
~ hearing your baby's first name being said on tv shows, commercials, NHL games, etc.
~ watching your partner cry, long for his baby and hurt"

But wait, there's more!

~ the second of each and every month
~ 2:22 a.m. when I knew, 4 minutes into them doing CPR, intubating Ethan and giving him 2 IVs that 4 minutes was far too long for him not to be breathing
~ emails from friends asking if they can come and meet the baby
~ phone calls from health professionals asking if I'm getting any sleep yet
~ seeing cute onsies in stores and not being able to buy them
~ feeling like you can't go down certain aisles at stores
~ not being able to sleep, not because your baby is crying all night, but because your baby didn't get to cry 

I am sure I am forgetting some as there are so many... I'll update the list as I think of them.
 

Capture Your Grief. Day 10. Beliefs.

When I was pregnant with Ethan, I was so worried that we would have yet another miscarriage.  Every single time I was worried, one of us would see a rainbow.  And I really did believe it was a sign that everything would be okay.  In fact, we saw so many reassuring rainbows that we decided the baby's middle name would be Rayne or Raine...

Then Ethan died.

And then I find out that a baby born after the loss of a pregnancy is called a "rainbow baby".

Ethan was supposed to be our rainbow baby.  Even before we knew what a rainbow baby was.

But Ethan died.  

So what am I supposed to believe?

Capture Your Grief. Day 9. Music

Having a dad as a musician, we always knew the baby's life would be full of music.  We had even planned on having the baby's newborn pictures done on Mark's drums!!  And even though we only got 41 weeks and 4 days with Ethan, his short life WAS full of music.

Ethan went to a few concerts.  He went to Madonna!  He went to Weezer.  He went to Xavier Rudd.  

He must have been a little confused with the eclectic music tastes between his parents.  I think that Ethan's favourite music was rock.  Because, as I have said before, Ethan was so much like his daddy. Almost every time rock music was on, he would dance around.  And I just felt better listening to it.

At Ethan's funeral, there was instrumental background music on a loop.  There was a song by a Christian band called Delirious?  The song is called I Could Sing of Your Love Forever.  The chorus repeats "I could sing of your love forever" over and over and over again.  And it is beautiful.  It is my song to Ethan.

For Mark, his song is Gone Away by The Offspring...

Capture Your Grief. Day 8. Colour.

Oh grief.  You try to knock me down so many ways every day.  But when it comes to colour, you jerk, I have you fooled.

Grief has made me appreciate my surroundings.  A lot more.  It has literally made me stop and smell the roses.  And appreciate all of the beauty and colours that are nature.

Capture Your Grief. Day 7. You Now

I am still a little behind on updating my Capture Your Grief challenge.  Today is the 9th and I'm only on day 7.  I am going to try to catch up.

The reason that I am behind is that I went up north for the weekend.  And I thought about doing the challenge there but then didn't.  Instead I enjoyed the company, I enjoyed the beautiful fall colours, I enjoyed life.  And you know what?  I did not feel that guilty!  

I quite often feel like I bring people down when I talk about Ethan.  So I try to make jokes in between.  But I didn't this time.  Speaking of him, his story, my pregnancy, just came naturally.  And while it was sad, it didn't break me.  And while I would give anything under the sun to have him with me, I know that it is not going to happen.  He isn't going to magically appear just because I beg, cry, pray, scream, wish, hope, etc.

Which brings me to "You Now".  When I originally thought of this topic, I had a lot of images running through my mind.  I had settled on about getting a picture of me and ripping it into a bunch of pieces. 

But I think now, 6+ months on, I have a little bit more peace with things.  One of my amazing friends told me of her sister's passing and that one day, she just found peace in it. And I think that I'm almost at that point now.  

I'm not there yet.  I'm not where I was before or even who I was before.  I don't think I will ever be.  But I am mostly me again, just a bit of a different version.  I will always be sad and I will always miss my son.  But it does not consume me anymore.

So for today's picture, instead of just ripping the picture of me into a bunch of pieces, I have taped them back together.  Some pieces are not in the right position and some are held together by the tiniest piece of tape.  But I am mostly whole.  And Ethan is covering every single part of my body.  Because he is with me always.  He is in every breath I take.  He is in every laugh, every tear.  Every heart beat.

But I couldn't find any pictures of me.  And I am a wonderful artist so please, no haters...

Capture Your Grief. Day 6. Ritual.

Much like I don't like the idea of grief having a legacy, I don't like the thought of grief creating any rituals.  But I suppose it is all interwoven, isn't it?  Without grief, I wouldn't feel the need to create a legacy for Ethan.  Without grief, we wouldn't need any rituals.

Our most important ritual?

Before we go anywhere at all, the cottage for the weekend, a road trip, to friends' houses, etc., we make sure that we have put Ethan's remains, and everything else that is priceless (my positive pregnancy test, ultrasound pictures, the gift we gave out at my shower, the measuring tape marking his head size and length, his footprints, his handprints, the cremation certificate) into our fire proof safe.  

Sounds a bit strange, putting ashes into a fireproof safe. But I really don't know if I could handle it if anything happened to "him".  I know that it's not really him, but it is all we have left of him.

We always expected that the baby would mean that we had to change our pre-trip planning, but we never imagined it to be like this.

 

Capture Your Grief. Day 5. Memory.

So many memories, how do you chose?

Ethan loved the heat.  I think it's because when I was around 18 or 19 weeks we went on a cruise to the Eastern Caribbean.  It was SO hot down there.  But also so awesome.  And I think Ethan learned to love the heat there.

One of my favourite memories of Ethan was in Niagara Falls. We usually go to Niagara Falls (or Buffalo) on Christmas Eve and spend Christmas in Niagara.  We bring our little Charlie Brown Christmas Tree and set it up in our room.  This past year, we got a special ornament for our tree ... 

As usual, we got a room with a big jetted bathtub.  At one point, I was just relaxing in the tub.  A nice warm tub!  Mark happened to look at me and at that exact same time, Ethan moved.  Ethan's movement was so big that the water in the tub moved like a giant wave.  It was the first time Mark had seen Ethan move.  And it was the coolest thing in the world.  Ethan waved at us!  I'm sure he was saying hello and letting us know how happy he was that he was in the warmth again.

Damn, I miss that little guy.

Capture Your Grief. Day 4. Legacy

I hate to think that grief leaves a legacy. I would like to think of it as Ethan's legacy.  A wise man taught me that you can do your baby proud by doing things in their name and creating their legacy.

The most important legacy of all of Ethan's is to cherish what you have. 

Cherish the time you have with your children, your spouse, your parents, grandparents, your friends, etc. You never know how long you have with any of them. 

Say I love you, often. Sadly, people will come and go but love never dies.

Ethan will always be My Forever Love.

Capture Your Grief. Day 3. Myths

I was having a hard time figuring out what to do for this topic of myths.  There are so many "what not to say" things.... but myths.  That were a reflection of my grief.  So I started thinking about what people say that drive me mental.  

I was thinking to do something about time.  

There is no time in the world that will make me over Ethan's death.  

But I think the most common thing I get is "x would be a good distraction for you".  Going to that party, not going to distract me.  Getting drunk, not going to distract me.  Going up north to the cottage, not going to distract me.  Playing candy crush, the BEST game ever, not going to distract me.

I think about Ethan every minute of every day.  And if by some crazy chance I have not thought about him for just one second, my tattoo is there to remind me of him.  And of what I don't have.

I should have a 6 month old.  I should just be experiencing a night of peaceful sleep.  I should be pushing a stroller around my neighbourhood, trying to figure out how to work the stroller while picking up after my dog.

There is nothing that will distract me from Ethan.

Capture Your Grief. Day 2. Identity

Since Ethan has died, I find that I am really struggling with my identity.  I know that I am a wife, a friend, a daughter.  But I sometimes always struggle with the mom part.  I know that I am a bereaved parent.  I know that I carried Ethan for 41 weeks and 4 days.  I know that I went through labour and delivered an 8 pound, 8 ounce, 20.5 inches baby boy, who was so perfect and handsome, just like his Daddy.  I can call my husband Ethan's Daddy.  So why do I question if I am a Mother?

 

Capture Your Grief - Day 1. Sunrise.

I am participating in a month long event called Capture Your Grief.

You take pictures of topics for each day in October. I will try to post a link to the event with tomorrow's post.

Today's topic was Sunrise.

I tried to get up early to watch the sunrise but it didn't work out too well for me.  I blame grief!

So here is the picture out of my bedroom window this morning. The light is from a street light. 

6 Months

Six months ago, to the very hour, we left the house for the hospital.  I was in labour and in so much pain but I was so excited to finally meet our baby.

I still can't believe that we came home empty handed, with the exception of some footprints, handprints,  a lock of hair, some pictures and broken hearts.

I almost feel like I am numb. I don't really feel how I did at any of the other milestones yet it's almost 1am and I can't sleep.

I just miss Ethan so much. He was the cutest baby ever and I'm so angry that I don't get to watch him grow.

I think Ethan has forever changed me, whether for good or bad, I don't know.  

Tomorrow's topic for Capture Your Grief is "identity" and I feel like I have lost mine.

My Trip to the Dentist

If I had to write a letter to a newly bereaved mom, or, I suppose to anyone who hasn't ever endured this horrible torture, I would share with them a few surprising things that will be, without a doubt, ridiculously hard.

Now, it's not surprising that things are hard because quite frankly, everything is hard.  What is surprising is the emotional turmoil we experience on a fairly regular basis, and the places that bring that pain.  But then also how surprisingly enough, that pain can be beautiful.

There are the obvious places.  The doctor's office.  Your last visit there you were pregnant and happy and hopeful.  So you know it will be a bit rough but SURPRISE!!  There is a baby scale in the room <-- seriously? You know that I'm coming in, without my baby, do you think you could have moved it?  Cue the tears.

The OB's office.  Another obviously obvious.  So obvious that I almost forgot about it.  The one ounce of tolerable pain is that some kind OBs will take you in for your 6 week check up after hours, so you don't have to see any pregnant, happy and hopeful ladies.  BUT, when three or four months have passed and you're going in to discuss your dead baby's autopsy report SURPRISE!! The receptionist is going to be calling new moms, congratulating them on their babies and booking their 6 week appointments.  Cue the tears.

Then there are the less obvious ones.

The week after Ethan was born and died, my chiropractor called, innocently enough, asking if I was able to get any sleep with the new baby at home.  Cue the tears.

A couple of weeks after Ethan was born and died, my massage therapist called, innocently enough, asking how it was going with the baby an if I needed her to come and do an "on site" massage so as to not disturb the baby.  Cue the tears.

The list goes on and on.  Especially if you are a regular at any of these places.

But then there is the dentist.  Ahh, the dentist.  So easy to forget about that twice a year trip.  Thankfully, one of my friends had already experienced the dentist... in her experience, the hygienist had said that they would be fairly quick so she could get home to her baby.  ARGH!  So I was on high alert.  I KNEW the dentist was probably going to be hard.  It wasn't going to be a surprise attack for me... but I was hopeful that I could sneak by.

I got into the office and the receptionist who "knows" me, wasn't there!  Score one for me.  Then my "normal" hygienist wasn't there either!  Whoop whoop.  So I'm all settled in the chair and the hygienist says "I saw in your chart, the last time you were here you were pregnant.  How's the baby?".  And you know what?  I knew something like this would happen so I was a bit protected and I wasn't thrown off, but it still threw me a little bit.  Cue the tears.  And the hygienist cried.  

Then I went to pay and of course, my receptionist was there, wondering why I was there during the day.  Cue the tears.  And the hygienist had to explain what happened...  

But then, something beautiful happened.  I got to talk about my beautiful, handsome son.  And share pictures.  And cry.  And have hugs from these ladies that I hardly know.  But most importantly, I got to share Ethan.

I guess I have reached the stage where I can find the positive in little things.
 
 

When Am I Going Back To Work?

I am soon going to post about my return to work, so I thought I would post this first... it has been in my drafts for a while.  I think I wrote it maybe in August or September...


Maybe it is boredom.  On good days, us BLMs have nothing to do but think happy thoughts of our babies who have died.

Maybe it is guilt.  Us BLMs have a whole whack of that stored up.

Maybe it is frustration.  Us BLMs live in a sea of what should be but isn't.

Maybe it is exhaustion.  Us BLMs are always trying to explain our feelings to others.


I do not know what it is, but when people ask me "when are you going back to work", it infuriates me!


I feel like it is people saying to me, "what? you're not over it yet? it's been 5 months".  

I feel like it's people saying "if you are at work, you can busy yourself and you won't think about the fact that your baby is dead".

I feel like it's people saying "if you go back to work, everything will be normal again".


I do feel like I should go back to work.  But that's just me.  I like working.  I'm good at my job and I enjoy most of the people I work with.  

When I'm having good days, I actually am a little bored at home.  I feel so super guilty that I am at home.  And I think I should be at work.  But when I'm having bad days, I can't even get out of bed, never mind get out of bed, shower, brush my teeth, drive over an hour to work, work in a sometimes stressful environment for 8+ hours, then drive all the way back home again.