The Perfect Gift

I was having a really hard time on Sebastian's birthday. I kept thinking about the little sister who should be there to help celebrate and who wasn't. Rather, I kept reacting to that fact without consciously thinking about it. I didn't realize where my sad mood was coming from, actually, until the early afternoon.

It was Sebastian's birthday, though, so it was easy enough to focus on him. We practiced saying 'two' and answering the question 'how old are you?' We sang happy birthday. It was nice since his birthday was a Thursday and it was a day care day for Joshua so he and I were able to hang out together and it was easy to slip away for a minute whenever I felt too sad to smile.

For dinner, we took him to Applebee's. My boys are like me in many ways, but in this we are completely different: they love being sung to in restaurants on their birthday. It's nice, because it's something special we can do the day of their birthday, rather than just waiting for the weekend to have their party.

While there, my husband told me he has something for me as well. It was a surprise, but also a bit of an off-and-on tradition that he gets me a little something since he considers it my birthday, too, having delivered the boys.

This year, he gave me the perfect, absolutely most beautiful thing he could have given me. A little owl charm for my bracelet. More importantly, a reminder of Analin.

This little charm was exactly what I needed after an emotionally charged day. The thought behind it helped knock me out of the sadness and brought me back to being able to appreciate the day and the memories being made, rather than the ones that couldn't be. A truly perfect gift. <3

Rants That (Don't) Matter

A few weeks ago I posted a mini rant about a TV show I can't watch simply because of bad timing on my part. I thought, perhaps, I might explain a bit about why it became important enough to post.

I'm the type of person who loves to be obsessed with things - disposable things, you might say, things that I can absorb myself with for a few days, then let them go with a happy sigh easily and lovingly.

This particular show became my first happy obsession after Analin died. It became a bonding time for me and my boys as we absorbed ourselves in these characters. It was a story line I love any variation of. So when I couldn't track down just a few first episodes of a new season, I became very frustrated.

Thankfully, with this happy obsession, I am content to visit the episodes Netflix has for me. And I'm taking it as a blessing that I'm not able to watch, since I'm not sure how catching up in the series, then still having to wait week to week for an episode would settle with me. I'm guessing not very well. The idea isn't to be stressed out by having to wait, but to enjoy the story in my time.

My Mom doesn't mind waiting week to week, but she doesn't get into stories like I do. I'm the type of person who doesn't want to read a book unless I know I have time to read it cover to cover in 1-2 sittings, either. Of course, with two boys, three dogs and a husband I'm also obsessed with, that makes for little reading time, but I have no problem with the order of my priorities.

So what of you? Happy obsessions? (Not so) silly frustrations? Patient or controlling? ;)

Dear Analin

Kris and I have taken on a new project to help us remember our daughter and have others remember her, too. The website is Dear Analin, a place for us to put our letters to her, a place we can share her and keep her with us. We also hope that, by doing this, we help others better understand how we are grieving and perhaps provide a place for others who have lost their children to connect and share.

You're welcome to stop by, to share the site, and to take part in it.

www.dearanalin.com

<3

Christmas Preparation

We put the Christmas tree up the day before Thanksgiving. We put up our stockings, including the one we bought for Analin. The idea is that we will all write her letters each Christmas and stuff her stocking with them. Once it's full, we can pull them out and be able to see how she's affected us each year.

I wasn't able to put up my snowflakes, though. I have 3 boxes of glittery snowflake decorations, and this year we bought a box of much bigger ones. I generally use them to make a design on our front picture window, throw a few on the other windows and hang remainder on the tree.

I just didn't feel like it this year. I didn't feel like going through the effort to plan a design, to arrange them on the windows at all - to be happy about putting them up.




On Analin's 2nd Monthday I decided it was time. It was a sad day anyway, and I had reached a point I wanted them up more than in their boxes. I free-handed a tree on the window, gave Analin her own snowflake and even hung up a pair between her and Chiaotzu, our 9 year old boxer dog who passed away in the late summer because of a bee sting.

I cried the whole time. Putting up the snowflakes was just so final. Christmas is really coming, really happening and I feel like we're missing a key member in the celebrations.

Kris says we still have Analin, just not in the way we wanted. I understand the thought, but have trouble agreeing with it. But I still have this driving need to include her - to give her a snowflake, to hang her stocking, to get her a personalized ornament along with the ones we buy for the boys every year. So yes, she is here with us, just not in the way we wanted. I hate the very thought, because let's be honest - this is not the way it was supposed to be.

The first year is the hardest, they say, because of all the firsts. I'm beginning to wonder if I might be able to hold my breath for the whole time, to let the pain build up until I can let it all go in one big relieving exhale. Of course, I'm pretty sure I don't have the Navy Seal training for that.

The holiday season is the worst, I think, for a lot of us who have lost loved ones. I hear so many stories now, and whether it's because no one talked about them before they knew I would understand, or now I understand and make the effort to pay attention. Or maybe I was always paying attention, but just didn't have the experience to be able to empathize.

Regardless, the stories are there, and with them some hope. Because I see there is still joy to be found in the holidays. I feel it myself while I'm planning what to do with the boys. I just wish grieving didn't have to be so hard because I'm beyond tired of it already.

A Few Months Is Not Enough

We lost Analin on October 6, 2013.

Weeks ago. Hours ago. Months, even.

But I am not okay.

Surprised? Of course not. Not when I say it like that. It's funny, though, how easily others can forget.

On the Monthday of her passing, my mother emailed me to ask me to do some photo transfers for her.

Photo transfers. On Analin's Monthday.

I turned off my phone to stop the notifications, but guiltily turned it back on and did them a few hours later.

Six weeks after we lost her, I asked my husband to take the boys. I was supposed to take my niece and nephews to swim class, but I cancelled and told everyone I just wanted to be alone. Suddenly they were asking me if I was clinically depressed and suggested strongly I needed to go to counseling.

This may have been partly my fault due to my great desire to remember Analin with as much happiness as possible, to be strong for my boys and to live in the world as a successful, happy person.

But I am broken. Still breaking, in fact. And I am not okay.

For example, there I was on Thanksgiving, hurting so deeply I didn't know where to turn for relief. I began to blame everyone else as the source of my hurting until I realized it was all due to Analin's loss. I had a few apologies to hand out, though not as many as I could have, thankfully. I'm so grateful to a family who is understanding and loves me or the holiday could have gone so much worse.

All of this doesn't mean I am clinically depressed. It doesn't mean I need therapy, though I promise I will go if I need to. (I have started going to a support group once a month.) It just means I had a very painful experience, one that will take more than a lifetime to get over. I will have bad days. I will want to be left alone. I may lash out not knowing why and I will apologize after. I will say no, which I'm sure will come as a shock to many who haven't heard me say it often, if at all.

That last bit may prove beneficial in many ways.

This is going to take time and energy. Some days I'm going to be too tired to fight, to force a different way of thinking on myself. And that's okay. It doesn't mean I'm lost, or depressed-sad, or in danger of hurting myself or others. It just means I'm healing from a wound that reopens every minute, and today is a rough day.

So please, if you know someone else (or me), take all the days to notice how we are acting or feeling before jumping to the conclusion we need more than what we're giving ourselves. Most of the time, we're amazing at knowing what we need for ourselves. Trust us. Love us. Help us on those days we need you the most. And know we will be there for you, too, on the days you need us the most. Because we know this isn't over for you, either.

<3

Pathology Report

Today was my six week postpartum check up with the doctor. I scored high on the postpartum depression checklist, but not Depression levels, which is good and expected. I'm also checking out to be healthy, healing quickly everywhere except my pelvic bones, which took a beating mid to late pregnancy, so are just taking a bit more time to heal.

The important part of this appointment, however, was the pathology report from the placenta and umbilical cord. There had been an underlying expectation to find clotting as a reason, a result of the Factor V Leiden disorder I have - proteins that can lead to blood clotting in it's carriers.

However, there was nothing. No clots and no other findings that may have shed light on Analin's loss.

I'm so relieved. Relieved that it wasn't something with my body that caused this. I have spoken to many women recently who have lost babies because of something their body did or couldn't do, and I can express my empathy with them, having believed the same. It really is a relief to find out this wasn't the case, that maybe Analin's loss really was just a fluke, maybe moving forward to possibly have more children won't be as difficult knowing she didn't die because of me.

My heart still breaks every day. I expect it always will. But I will continue to look for the brighter side of things. It really is the only way to get through this - to actively work at it, to force a perspective on myself that I don't necessarily feel at the moment. So right now, this is my silver lining, knowing there truly wasn't anything I could have done to save her - no intervention, no medicine that others with this condition have and do use.

Today, it will be enough.

<3

WWBH Prompt (Plus a brief update)

Hello, everyone. :) With tomorrow being Halloween, things are a bit touch and go over here. Not only because we had holiday plans including little Analin, but because it is the last day of our due-date month. We have dress up all day, through breakfast at day care, lunch at Kris' work and possibly trick or treating at night, depending on the rain-predicted weather. We had already gotten all of the kids' costumes, including Analin's, which is now packed up with the rest of her things.

The difficult part is the memories we won't be making that we thought we would is brought into light on a holiday, and this is the first one we've reached so far. As with everything else, however, I'm sure it won't be as difficult as we're thinking it may be.

I am ready, I think, to start up with the WWBH prompts again. This week Leanne has put it together for us, and I'm scheduled for next week, along with the choosing of the monthly ad winner. Get your writing caps on, and dive into the prompt, making sure to get it in by 8pm EST next Tuesday to be eligible. :)

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Scary movies and candy galore, entice the imagination to explore. Take a picture and five simple terms, write a story of fiction to make readers squirm.

Haha! Happy Writer Wednesday and Happy Halloween, friends. It's time for another round of the blog hop photo stories. Here are the two stories we received from last week's prompt:

No Heroes Death by Tena Carr
Window Seat by Leanne Sype

Writers inspiring writers, spurring the growth of an imaginative writing community! This is what the blog hop is really all about, my friends. So we hope you'll join us this week, and be sure to invite a friend to join in too. All are welcome. Here's a quick review of how the blog hop works:

1) Use the photo and the 5 words provided in your story
2) Keep your word count 500 words or less.
3) You have until next Tuesday to link up your post.
4) Link up with your blog hostess (Nicole, Carrie, Tena or Leanne) when you’re done via the inLinkz linky below.
5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow.

Here is this week's photograph (courtesy of Leanne Sype):

Your mandatory words:

day

vowel

stool

spaceship

calm

Kris' Speech

These were the words Kris wrote and spoke for Analin's memorial. <3 You can read more about her here.

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I want to start by thanking all of you for coming tonight. Carrie and I have been overwhelmed by all the love and support we’ve received from our families, friends and colleagues. It has been incredibly helpful to us to know that we have not been alone in our grief. We can never express our gratitude to all of you, but we will always try. 


One of the things I kept asking myself early last week was ‘Why?’. Why did this happen to us?

Why did this happen to our family? What had we done to deserve this fate? 

I know that many of you shared the same question with me. That this was so pointless - that it was so hard to understand the reason for our loss. 

I’ve come to realize that it’s really the wrong question to ask - this should not make us question and it’s not helpful for us to ask ‘why’. 

If there’s a greater meaning with Analin’s death, I cannot see it - But what I can do, is to cherish Analin’s memory and make her mean something. 

I take great strength from the fact that Analin was with us for 38 weeks. I smile when I think about how she would get mad at Carrie (and me I suppose) when the food Carrie ate was too spicy. It was amazing to feel Carrie’s belly when Analin had hiccups.

It was incredible to see when Analin had her kick-boxing workouts. 

I will cherish forever those hard, hard hours after Analin was born when we had her in our room at the hospital. When we got to hold our baby-girl in our arms. 

As I think of all those memories, I so wish that we could have had more. Right now, that’s the hardest thing for me to accept - that those incredible memories won’t continue. It makes me so sad but I’m really grateful that since I can’t have those future memories, at least I have some. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about how you actually can have a memorial for a baby girl when you hadn’t spent all that much time with her. But the thing is - I know her. We all do. And I know she’s with us. Right here.

We know she would have been beautiful and compassionate like her mother. 

She would have been smart and sweet like her oldest brother Joshua. She would have been smiling and happy like her brother, Sebastian. 

And maybe she would have had her father’s sense of humor - which of course would have driven her mother crazy. 

We know she would have been all those things - and of course, she would have been completely her own - our unique, amazing, beautiful girl.

So what do we do now? Well, we continue. Analin and her story is now part of our family and we will always keep her memory with us. We will cherish life and we will keep sharing our love with our family and our friends. We will try to be the best people we can be. Now this is just part of us and our lives.

I want to share with you just how amazing Carrie and our boys have been to me and to our family in the last week. Our boys are our super-heroes. 

Carrie, it sucks so much that we have to go through this, but I’m so incredibly grateful that since I have to go through it, that I go through it with you. You’ve been amazing for me, for our boys and you give us so much strength. Not an hour passes without me thanking the stars for you.

I want to finish by saying thank you again to our family, our friends and also to Kristin and everyone from Tiny Purpose. We will always be grateful for the support you have given us in these difficult days.

And of course a huge thank you to all for being with us tonight - we appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.

We will continue to need to lean on you. But you can lean on us too.

Tonight, we want to start a tradition that we intend to keep every year on Analin’s birthday - and that is to release sky lanterns. So with your help, we’d like to begin.

I don't know how to title this post ...

There really is no easy way to put this, so I'll use the main thing that has gotten me through these last few weeks - the Band-aid Method.

On October 6, Analin was stillborn. She was born at 2:25 in the morning weighing 6lbs 8oz, 20 inches long and she never opened her eyes or took a breath.

We had gone into the hospital on the 5th because I hadn't felt her moving. We had thought it was birth preparation and our visit was just a precaution. However, the nurse couldn't find a heartbeat, and the ultrasound confirmed there was none.

As of now, we don't have a reason for her loss. On initial exam, there was nothing obvious. We're not sure if the cord and placenta were sent to pathology because I had a different OB deliver me, and my OB hadn't had a chance to ask before my post-partum appointment with her. It doesn't matter much right now, except that my blood clotting proteins may have played a role, and that's important for any future pregnancy we might have.

On Monday the 15th, we had a beautiful ceremony for Analin in our front yard. Everyone who was able to attend had a small candle, each tied carefully with a power-word; strength, courage, memory, love, etc. Kristoffer gave a beautiful speech and chose an amazing play list. Then we lit up some sky lanterns. Joshua (4), who had been having a rough time, and I poured all of our sadness into the lanterns. We watched them rise straight up into the cold, windless dusk, and be carried away on higher winds.

We're still struggling a little over here, but have taken on the decision to move past this. The firsts - the first things to do without her - are the most difficult, hence the band-aid method. And then there's the belief that we cannot allow this grief to take over our lives, to poison our hearts against the other babies being born now (have I mentioned before that everyone we knew who was pregnant was also due in October?), to stop us from enjoying the two children still with us, or to come between us as husband and wife. So we move on, and we manage, but we don't forget. <3