October 29

October 29 was Saersha's due date. 

I had actually not been thinking about it, focussing much more of course on her birthday later this week. It has hit me in the guts now though thinking about how long I anticipated this date last year, how alive she was inside of me on that day. On that day I remember feeling very patient about her arrival. I wanted to give birth soon of course but I had a hunch anyway that she wouldn't be born until her due date at least.

At that time I had a level of happiness that I am not sure I will be capable of again. I was reading Spiritual Midwifery, watching videos on natural birth and practicing visualizations. I was very into trying for as un-medical a birth as possible, knowing that I was going to one of the best maternity hospitals in the country. I was thinking about whether I could labour in a tub and how I could manage pain without drugs. 

These are all totally appropriate things for me to have been doing but I can't help but think of myself with some derision for not considering that there is no safe zone, even the best doctors are not omnipotent and that even with very good care and preparation full term healthy babies die. I was thinking so much about trusting my body and the natural process of birth and I can't help but feel angry at myself for focussing on all of the wrong things.

I have again picked up Finding Hope When a Child Dies: What Other Cultures Can Teach Us and it does help a bit with the guilt and anger that is so much with me right now. This book tells a bit about how in other cultures (Yoruba and Hindu) the fate/karma of the child is accepted, in these incomprehensible losses the supernatural decides what happens to each soul and it is not for anyone else to consider themselves responsible. The author suggests that people in Western Judeo-Christian traditions identify more personally with god and then take responsibility for what has happened to their children to a greater extent. Aside from some dabbling in Buddhism and being forced into Sunday school a bit as a child, I am not very religious. I do however appreciate viewing loss through another cultural lens. For a moment I try to slip into that kind of worldview where none of our actions or decisions would change a painful outcome and where this loss is not about me but about what Saersha's soul needed to do.

Just more questions

In August I wrote about the season being wrong, the sun being too hot and bright, now there is no avoiding the red leaves and the wet sidewalks. Saersha's season is here.  I thought this might help me feel closer to her. Instead, while I find myself reminded of her and thinking of her often, my overall feelings are more of shock, disbelief and anger that she came and was taken from us almost a year ago. There is no peace in it. 

Saersha's brother's season is also here. As we dare to discuss what the plan will be for this baby's birth, we can only draw from that experience and remember all of the points along the way, from the ambulance, to admitting, to signing forms, to the OR, to the hospital room without her and leaving with aching arms. These thoughts bring up angst filled questions that I had put aside. Why did the freaking ambulance driver go to the wrong entrance? Why didn't they appreciate how serious it was? Why didn't they just take her out right away while her heart was still beating?  I had convinced myself that none of those things would have saved her but now here they are again these angry questions.

I look at the first photos of her in the operating room and the NICU and it's unreal that my baby had to endure these medical interventions and this violent emergency birth. I see in those photos my own pale and expressionless face and I still feel the numbness, shock and despair.

How will it be this time? Can we even imagine the baby crying as he is brought into the world? Could he really just be held by his dad and not rushed from resuscitation to NICU? Will we really have him in our room to be visited and admired? While on a practical level I try and make these plans it's still hard to believe that I am not going to the hospital just to have the baby die.

These babies will be only a year and 10 days apart. I feel like half of me is still with Saersha not having really gotten over anything and the other half is trying to be here and strong for her brother. There is no cohesive whole that has healed and grown stronger but a dichotomy. I guess that will have to do.

October 15

"Breaking the Silence. I had a Daughter." by Franchesca Cox | Redbubble:

This is my third year marking Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day and the first that I have experienced both. 

I had a daughter. It doesn't feel real sometimes, but I did.

Capture Your Grief: Jewellery

I had this necklace made on Etsy very soon after Saersha's death. I know many people have necklaces like this for their living children but I don't think that I would have had it made if I didn't yearn for any kind of physical connection to Saersha possible. I love seeing her name written anywhere or hearing it said. This necklace also can offer a rare entry point for people in my life who want to say something about what has happened. It puts it out there in the world a bit, which also feels like a brave act to me. Sometimes I just don't want to have to tell people but this necklace can make me do it.

I also like this necklace because it reminds me of a dog tag and often I feel like I am a veteran. I am not sure who I have been at war with, death, the universe, myself, but I feel like I have seen a kind of darkness that people don't often see and come back to try and live amoungst the civilians.

October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month and Capture Your Grief is an initiative where babylost parents are sharing photos with a theme for each day.

It's already the 5th so I am behind a bit, but I do want to participate in some way. I'll catch up with the themes that speak to me the most so far.

Before Loss Self Portrait

Of course, who doesn't say this, but our wedding day was one of the happiest of my life. I felt sure that our next step would be to have a baby within a year or so. I choose this photo rather than one of my pregnancy with Saersha because even though that was an extremely happy time, Saersha was already a rainbow baby after 3 early losses. When I think back to our wedding, that is when I was last naive about loss.

After Loss Self Portrait

After Saersha died I felt washed out like this. I wasn't recognizable to myself. I was in shock and I didn't know what to do with my feelings. I am someone who needs to feel purposeful and my whole purpose was supposed to be to care for Saersha. I was ready to dedicate my life to her. I was so sure it would work out this time and things would finally get back onto a positive track again. My body was so ready and needing to nurture and feed her but she was gone.

Most Treasured Item

Saersha took half of this pendant with her and I have the other half. I wore it everyday and felt it connected me to her. About a month after she died I dropped my half and it broke. I was so distraught and panicked. How could I break this talisman of my child!!! Would she ever forgive me? Where we not connected now? What did it mean? In an attempt at denial I glued it back together immediately. If it wasn't broken for long then I could pretend I never broke it. After fixing it, time passing and calming down a bit I realized that it was even more symbolic. My heart really was/is broken forever but I still have to carry it around and carry on.

Memorial

We didn't have a memorial service for Saersha. We didn't think we could grieve the way we needed to with people around. It was just the two of us saying goodbye to her for the last time. The crematorium staff were very kind to us and gave us enough time and space to do this. I can't bring myself to post a photo of that, but this is the cedar box that we made (with a lot of help since our grief-addled minds could not handle anything but the most basic functions). Many First Nations believe that cedar is sacred and when burned it drives out negative forces. This box was so fragrant with cleansing cedar and it meant so much more to us than the options offered by the funeral home. We sent her off wrapped in the blanket her Nana had knit for her and I filled a small wooden container with breast milk for her. My body was making it for her even though she couldn't use it but I wanted to give it to her in some small way regardless.