Monday March 4, 2013
Dear baby children Shelby and Dalton,
Today would have been y'all's 14 month old birthday. It was a rough weekend, maybe because this next milestone was weighing on our subconscious and making us miserable. It's Abram's momma's birthday today. And also the 10-month anniversary of when he died. It's also your great-grandmother Philomena's birthday. She would have been 95 (I think). I can't remember if she was born in 1918 or 1919. She and your great-grandmother Betty were very close in age. Betty's 95th birthday is later this month. If these ladies are around you right now, wish them happy birthday for us.
I dropped your Daddy off at the airport this morning, bound for San Francisco. I wish I could have gone with him, but we are trying to save money and no trip is in the budget right now. In 2 weeks, he has another great trip, this time to the Gulf Coast; Orange Beach, Alabama to be specific. His new boss asked him to help train one of my old counterparts (manager) who was laid off and opted to become an auditor like Daddy. Daddy's boss said he wanted Daddy to be with this guy as he thought Daddy had a lot of expertise to offer. That made me very proud of your Daddy. But, I'm sad I can't go with him. Prices to fly in to Mobile (closest airport) were $500+, so I thought about flying to New Orleans (either early or staying on extra, to see your Aunt Kelli), but those prices were about $700. I did find one option that might have worked on Southwest, for about $400, but Daddy said we can't spend that money. I really wanted to go because I find the beach so healing, and of course, it would have given me a new place to write your names in the sand (so far, we've got Gulfport, MS, Paracas, Peru, Santa Barbara, CA, and somewhere in New Zealand, thanks to Jack's mom. We should have asked your Uncle Bill to write your names on Maui when he and Aunt Adrienne were there last year. I don't know if they'd have done it or not). Plus, looking on the map, just west of Orange Beach is Shelby Lakes. You know I would have had to drive there. There's also a Dalton, GA, but I don't think Daddy would have to go there, he doesn't usually go that far east for work.
I re-read the last post I made, about 3 weeks ago. I asked for some signs. I think just after that, we went to dinner with your Grandpa Larry, Grandma Kay and cousin Emily. Leaving the restaurant, we stood near the cars in this little landscape area. Emily was playing with the plants and rocks and then she turned around (away from the 4 of us) and said "What? What?", into the night sky. I like to think that means y'all were there with us and Emily could see you. Then, Abram's mom texted me and said the host at a restaurant where they went was named Dalton. However, there's still a dark cloud hanging over me. I had a good time at the zoo with Olivia's mommy, and we met up again last week to walk. It is probably the single farthest distance I have walked in some time, if not ever. We walked about 4.8 miles around the Scottsdale green belt. Then, the next day, she texted to tell me she is pregnant again. They have been trying and I'm very happy for them, but so saddened that our attempts did not work and we have to keep trying. And, we have no guarantee that everything will work again as easily as it did when you came in to our lives. Then of course, there is the added worry and paranoia that the same result will happen again. It's not just getting pregnant, it's keeping me pregnant, and then, even at full term, the worries of cord accidents, infectious diseases or SIDS.
My darkness is making me very passive aggressive, according to your Daddy. I don't want this blog to become an ugly place of hatred, vitriol and rage, so forgive me for venting. In my mind, I resort to passive aggressive behavior and anger as means of self-protection. That probably is ridiculous, but for some reason, I guess I'm thinking if I wall myself off and don't let people in (including your Daddy), then I won't get hurt again. I find myself expecting the worst of everyone. Yet, I crave companionship and contact with people. I initiated a GNO with Auntie Leah for Tuesday and a walk with Olivia's mom again on Thursday. This dichotomy in my personality is very bizarre.
I'm going to sign off for now my darlings, I'm working on putting a bunch of old pictures in to albums and organize them, just in general trying to declutter the house.
My love on your 14-month birthday, I wish I was cooking some special dish for you and following you around the house. Momma
Monday, March 4, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Being Alone
Tuesday February 12, 2013,
Dearest Shelby and Dalton,
Thirteen months ago today, while still grieving for Dalton, Shelby up and left us. Thirteen months of heartbreak, pain, loss, depression, loneliness, rage, mourning the loss of our lives together, of all the things we should have been doing and planning, mourning not knowing what you would have looked like, or how your voices would have sounded, what you would have thought of the dogs, getting to see your little personalities develop.
When I logged on to write today's post, there was a message saying my password was last changed 39 days ago. So that would make it about 405 days since I last carried you (roughly, accounting for leap year and assuming the last time I logged on was to write your birthday post). I still have sensory recall of how Dalton felt the only time I got to hold you, the day you were literally dying in our arms. I feel the velvet softness of your head, resting on the curve of my throat. It was totally different holding Shelby as you died. Your body was cold the instant they removed you from the machines, as if you were already gone.
Today, I had an appointment with my therapist. I generally felt ok while in the appointment, she said I seemed to have a clarity and good direction about what we're planning, she said it sounded like your Daddy and I were in a good place, despite our recent failed attempt to add to our family. After I left the appointment, I came home and took the dogs out for a walk. We went to the park over past the high school, so we could have a long walk. I noticed the parking lot was crowded. I hoped no one had dogs out, as you know how your canine brother Ike is around other dogs. I didn't see any dogs, so I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, I looked at the playground and there was a little boy, probably just a bit older than what you would have been Dalton. He had blond hair and was dressed in jeans. Suddenly such a darkness came over me. I was looking for a fight. Something about seeing those children just enraged me. I was hoping the mothers would make some comment or rush to protectively snatch their children up away from my giant dogs. No one did, they hardly paid us any mind at all. I just wanted to walk up to the mothers and say, "Hey, can my dog children play with your children? I would have brought my human children, but THEY'RE DEAD!!". I don't know what came over me, but I was so angered. I wanted to make a stink, to be hateful and bitchy and ruin their day. Needless to say, I held my rageful outburst in check, but I was changed for the rest of the day.
I came home and switched on the TV. It is a bad habit, but I put it on for the background noise, for a feeling of some sort of human interaction. On a rerun of Sex and the City, Carrie was talking about being alone. Her friends planned a big dinner for her 35th birthday, then none of them showed up, leaving her stranded at the restaurant. She even wound up having to pay $70.00 for her own birthday cake that was to have been paid for by her friend Samantha (yes, I know, $70.00 for a birthday cake is quite outrageous, but it was New York City in the late 90's/early aught's). She was alone. I feel alone much of the time. I'm going to the zoo tomorrow with Olivia's mommy and meeting your Aunt Chris for lunch Friday, but I'm generally alone.
Your daddy and I both would like to feel more signs from the two of you. It's been quite a while. Just something, playing with our blinds, visiting with you in our dreams or seeing or hearing examples of your names. Maybe you've been so busy playing with your friends Abram, Chloe, Weston and Olivia. We miss you as much as always, but we're trying to focus on some other projects. It would be delightful if you would bless our plans and help them come to fruition.
I love you darlings,
Momma
Dearest Shelby and Dalton,
Thirteen months ago today, while still grieving for Dalton, Shelby up and left us. Thirteen months of heartbreak, pain, loss, depression, loneliness, rage, mourning the loss of our lives together, of all the things we should have been doing and planning, mourning not knowing what you would have looked like, or how your voices would have sounded, what you would have thought of the dogs, getting to see your little personalities develop.
When I logged on to write today's post, there was a message saying my password was last changed 39 days ago. So that would make it about 405 days since I last carried you (roughly, accounting for leap year and assuming the last time I logged on was to write your birthday post). I still have sensory recall of how Dalton felt the only time I got to hold you, the day you were literally dying in our arms. I feel the velvet softness of your head, resting on the curve of my throat. It was totally different holding Shelby as you died. Your body was cold the instant they removed you from the machines, as if you were already gone.
Today, I had an appointment with my therapist. I generally felt ok while in the appointment, she said I seemed to have a clarity and good direction about what we're planning, she said it sounded like your Daddy and I were in a good place, despite our recent failed attempt to add to our family. After I left the appointment, I came home and took the dogs out for a walk. We went to the park over past the high school, so we could have a long walk. I noticed the parking lot was crowded. I hoped no one had dogs out, as you know how your canine brother Ike is around other dogs. I didn't see any dogs, so I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, I looked at the playground and there was a little boy, probably just a bit older than what you would have been Dalton. He had blond hair and was dressed in jeans. Suddenly such a darkness came over me. I was looking for a fight. Something about seeing those children just enraged me. I was hoping the mothers would make some comment or rush to protectively snatch their children up away from my giant dogs. No one did, they hardly paid us any mind at all. I just wanted to walk up to the mothers and say, "Hey, can my dog children play with your children? I would have brought my human children, but THEY'RE DEAD!!". I don't know what came over me, but I was so angered. I wanted to make a stink, to be hateful and bitchy and ruin their day. Needless to say, I held my rageful outburst in check, but I was changed for the rest of the day.
I came home and switched on the TV. It is a bad habit, but I put it on for the background noise, for a feeling of some sort of human interaction. On a rerun of Sex and the City, Carrie was talking about being alone. Her friends planned a big dinner for her 35th birthday, then none of them showed up, leaving her stranded at the restaurant. She even wound up having to pay $70.00 for her own birthday cake that was to have been paid for by her friend Samantha (yes, I know, $70.00 for a birthday cake is quite outrageous, but it was New York City in the late 90's/early aught's). She was alone. I feel alone much of the time. I'm going to the zoo tomorrow with Olivia's mommy and meeting your Aunt Chris for lunch Friday, but I'm generally alone.
Your daddy and I both would like to feel more signs from the two of you. It's been quite a while. Just something, playing with our blinds, visiting with you in our dreams or seeing or hearing examples of your names. Maybe you've been so busy playing with your friends Abram, Chloe, Weston and Olivia. We miss you as much as always, but we're trying to focus on some other projects. It would be delightful if you would bless our plans and help them come to fruition.
I love you darlings,
Momma
Friday, January 4, 2013
Happy First Birthday
Friday January 4, 2013
My darlings Shelby and Dalton,
Today is right up there in the top 5 worst days of my life. This is not how I should be celebrating your first birthday, sitting here on the sofa, completely alone with my tears. I have cried on and off for the better part of the day. Your daddy is hiding in the bed with his head under the pillows. I know we grieve differently, and I respect that, but I'm so alone, for me it makes the pain of not having you with me even that much more unbearable.
I would go out for a drive, but I don't feel I am stable enough that I should be behind the wheel of a car right now. I could just see, the officer would pull me over and I would probably display such rage I would be locked away for sure.
Your Aunt Manda and Aunt Kelli both called me today. Your Uncle Don and Aunt Cristina called each your daddy and I. Uncle Ryan and Aunt Violet called us too. I got a beautiful text from Chloe's momma, and she made a lovely post on my facebook page. I think perhaps your hands and hearts guided her with what to say. Aunt Leah texted me. I also heard from Anaiah, Janiah and Nasiah's mom. Abram's mom gave me a little angel and a lovely card when we had lunch on Wednesday.
I know I was harsh to your daddy at the beginning of today's entry. I don't mean to be, I just don't know how to be with him today. He gave me an amazing gift for your birthday, he bought me a brick for the new Baylor football stadium. It touched me and now I just have to select the perfect verse to immortalize y'all. It truly couldn't have been more special, he knows what Baylor means to me and he knows how I have always loved football. Since the days when I was barely walking, I used to watch football with your grandpa Joe and great-grandpa Stanley.
Babies, we are twenty minutes away from the exact time of your birth. I must go and feed your canine siblings, as your brother Ike is pacing through the family room and crying for his dinner. Then, I will go crawl in the bed next to your daddy and somehow try to comfort him.
I look forward to the day when we can celebrate your birthdays again together. All my love.
Momma
My darlings Shelby and Dalton,
Today is right up there in the top 5 worst days of my life. This is not how I should be celebrating your first birthday, sitting here on the sofa, completely alone with my tears. I have cried on and off for the better part of the day. Your daddy is hiding in the bed with his head under the pillows. I know we grieve differently, and I respect that, but I'm so alone, for me it makes the pain of not having you with me even that much more unbearable.
I would go out for a drive, but I don't feel I am stable enough that I should be behind the wheel of a car right now. I could just see, the officer would pull me over and I would probably display such rage I would be locked away for sure.
Your Aunt Manda and Aunt Kelli both called me today. Your Uncle Don and Aunt Cristina called each your daddy and I. Uncle Ryan and Aunt Violet called us too. I got a beautiful text from Chloe's momma, and she made a lovely post on my facebook page. I think perhaps your hands and hearts guided her with what to say. Aunt Leah texted me. I also heard from Anaiah, Janiah and Nasiah's mom. Abram's mom gave me a little angel and a lovely card when we had lunch on Wednesday.
I know I was harsh to your daddy at the beginning of today's entry. I don't mean to be, I just don't know how to be with him today. He gave me an amazing gift for your birthday, he bought me a brick for the new Baylor football stadium. It touched me and now I just have to select the perfect verse to immortalize y'all. It truly couldn't have been more special, he knows what Baylor means to me and he knows how I have always loved football. Since the days when I was barely walking, I used to watch football with your grandpa Joe and great-grandpa Stanley.
Babies, we are twenty minutes away from the exact time of your birth. I must go and feed your canine siblings, as your brother Ike is pacing through the family room and crying for his dinner. Then, I will go crawl in the bed next to your daddy and somehow try to comfort him.
I look forward to the day when we can celebrate your birthdays again together. All my love.
Momma
Thursday, December 13, 2012
12 months
Thursday December 13, 2012
Precious babies,
Yesterday marked the 1 year anniversary of the day we had our ultrasound. You were there, in full glory. They took 99 photos of the 2 of you, and I was amazed at the clarity of the photos, the perfectly round outlines of your skulls, your little noses, your arms and legs in crystal clarity. I was fascinated at all of the things they were checking. I also got a bit nauseous with the pressing of the ultrasound. I think it was just y'all, trying to say "Hey, leave us alone in here, stop poking around with that disturbing wand", so you sent signals to make me ill. Just like all the times when you let me know you didn't like the food I was eating. As we've discussed in previous posts, you liked high quality gourmet food, as evidenced by our birthday lunch with my parents at The Parlor and the many delicious meals we had in Las Vegas with your Aunt Manda, Uncle Kevin, Aunt Leah and Uncle Pete. After those meals, I was never nauseous in the slightest.
Yesterday also marked the one year anniversary of the beginning of both the happiest and the darkest 30 day period in my entire life. We shared your ultrasound photos with family and friends and I felt your activity level increase. We got ready to host Christmas Eve dinner, and 3 days later, I was in the hospital on bedrest, fighting to preserve the pregnancy, praying for another uneventful day, and another and another. But, as we all know, you arrived at the 24-week mark and your tiny bodies were woefully underprepared to tackle life on the outside. By January 12, you were both gone.
This week, I came down with bronchitis. Your father and I have both been battling sickness recently. Two weeks ago, he was sick all weekend, lying in the bed. I don't know if he had the flu or a colitis flare up or just mental fatigue. This broken-heartedness is impacting both of us physically. Daddy said he read somewhere that grief stricken parents are always battling illnesses, or something to that effect. I admit I didn't pay attention to him because I absolutely detest being sick. With the exception of our time in the hospital, my only other stint was an emergency room visit after I fell down the cellar stairs at Nana's, resulting in a mild concussion. But, another grieving Mom wrote something in her blog along similar lines. I'm afraid my mental acuity is less than sharp tonight, so I'm not up to quoting it, or even describing the gist of her post.
Your canine brother Ike is completely simpatico with my bronchitis. He has lain in the bed with me all day today, even forgoing his dinner tonight. He can't get close enough to me, he is trying to comfort my soul. Your canine sister is lying on the floor, she keeps sniffing the air. Perhaps she senses y'all are visiting us. Perhaps your Tante Jayne brought you for a visit, as she was always the family nursemaid, taking care of at least 3 generations. Make that 4 now that she's looking after the 2 of you. And, yes, Tante, I know I should be taking your famous concoction of honey and butter to kick this bronchitis.
I spoke with Daddy, he was supposed to get together with my SIG, Chloe's momma tonight. Ironically, SIG has also come down with bronchitis. We are forever linked in a horrendous way, but I find it comforting to have her with me on our grief journeys. He may see her briefly tomorrow before he leaves Alaska.
Darling Shelby and Dalton, Momma is signing off for now. Hopefully, this weekend, we will put up the Christmas tree. I have 3 ornaments for you, the ones I bought in Alaska in April and the one your grandparents Bones gave us. I hope I can find all of them, I've been more than disorganized these past few months.
All my love - Momma
Precious babies,
Yesterday marked the 1 year anniversary of the day we had our ultrasound. You were there, in full glory. They took 99 photos of the 2 of you, and I was amazed at the clarity of the photos, the perfectly round outlines of your skulls, your little noses, your arms and legs in crystal clarity. I was fascinated at all of the things they were checking. I also got a bit nauseous with the pressing of the ultrasound. I think it was just y'all, trying to say "Hey, leave us alone in here, stop poking around with that disturbing wand", so you sent signals to make me ill. Just like all the times when you let me know you didn't like the food I was eating. As we've discussed in previous posts, you liked high quality gourmet food, as evidenced by our birthday lunch with my parents at The Parlor and the many delicious meals we had in Las Vegas with your Aunt Manda, Uncle Kevin, Aunt Leah and Uncle Pete. After those meals, I was never nauseous in the slightest.
Yesterday also marked the one year anniversary of the beginning of both the happiest and the darkest 30 day period in my entire life. We shared your ultrasound photos with family and friends and I felt your activity level increase. We got ready to host Christmas Eve dinner, and 3 days later, I was in the hospital on bedrest, fighting to preserve the pregnancy, praying for another uneventful day, and another and another. But, as we all know, you arrived at the 24-week mark and your tiny bodies were woefully underprepared to tackle life on the outside. By January 12, you were both gone.
This week, I came down with bronchitis. Your father and I have both been battling sickness recently. Two weeks ago, he was sick all weekend, lying in the bed. I don't know if he had the flu or a colitis flare up or just mental fatigue. This broken-heartedness is impacting both of us physically. Daddy said he read somewhere that grief stricken parents are always battling illnesses, or something to that effect. I admit I didn't pay attention to him because I absolutely detest being sick. With the exception of our time in the hospital, my only other stint was an emergency room visit after I fell down the cellar stairs at Nana's, resulting in a mild concussion. But, another grieving Mom wrote something in her blog along similar lines. I'm afraid my mental acuity is less than sharp tonight, so I'm not up to quoting it, or even describing the gist of her post.
Your canine brother Ike is completely simpatico with my bronchitis. He has lain in the bed with me all day today, even forgoing his dinner tonight. He can't get close enough to me, he is trying to comfort my soul. Your canine sister is lying on the floor, she keeps sniffing the air. Perhaps she senses y'all are visiting us. Perhaps your Tante Jayne brought you for a visit, as she was always the family nursemaid, taking care of at least 3 generations. Make that 4 now that she's looking after the 2 of you. And, yes, Tante, I know I should be taking your famous concoction of honey and butter to kick this bronchitis.
I spoke with Daddy, he was supposed to get together with my SIG, Chloe's momma tonight. Ironically, SIG has also come down with bronchitis. We are forever linked in a horrendous way, but I find it comforting to have her with me on our grief journeys. He may see her briefly tomorrow before he leaves Alaska.
Darling Shelby and Dalton, Momma is signing off for now. Hopefully, this weekend, we will put up the Christmas tree. I have 3 ornaments for you, the ones I bought in Alaska in April and the one your grandparents Bones gave us. I hope I can find all of them, I've been more than disorganized these past few months.
All my love - Momma
Monday, December 3, 2012
If We Make It Through December
Monday December 3, 2012
Hello my precious Shelby and Dalton,
I'm sitting here tonight, watching my Baylor boy, Robert Griffin III leading his Redskins on Monday Night Football against the New York Giants. He is a phenomenal athlete and seems to be of good character. His parents are still together, which probably has quite a bit to do with his maturity and composure. He is the face of Baylor. Sometimes, it seems so bizarre, as he wasn't even born when I started my days at Baylor, he was born during the second semester of my freshman year. I can still remember when he won the Heisman trophy, the ceremony was on Saturday December 10, 2 days before my ultrasound. So many of those "milestone" days are rushing at us over the coming weeks. I couldn't believe how your images appeared on the ultrasounds, that we could see every detail of your precious and seemingly perfect bodies. We really were blissfully ignorant, naively thinking that we made it through the 1st trimester and everything looked so good. I must admit, neither your Daddy nor I were paying super close attention to the 4 factors that contribute to premature labor when the maternal/fetal medicine specialist detailed them. I remember high blood pressure (which I never had), age of the mother (guilty of frittering away so much of our lives), and discord between twin weights (more than 20%, which you never measured until the day you were born), but I don't know the 4th factor. It really didn't seem like premature labor would be something that we'd be dealing with, but how horribly wrong we were. Thirty-one days after that ultrasound, you were both gone.
We somehow made it through Thanksgiving, and stayed sober. We both know alcohol offers no solutions, sometimes it just numbs the pain. We didn't even get to that point on Thanksgiving. Daddy had 1 beer, which he left on the counter half full, and then 1 gin and tonic, again leaving half of it in the glass. I had 2 small glasses of red wine, I poured a glass for Daddy at dinner, he didn't even take 1 sip. That was it. Our mothers were both pretty mellow, and there were no major issues. Grandma Nancy said grace, and your Uncle Ryan surprised us by initiating the hand-holding during the blessing. Your Aunt Violet is scared to death of Ike, and he senses that, so therefore whenever she holds your cousin Emily, Ike loses his mind. However, when Grandma Kay or Ryan or I hold Emily, Ike is just fine. He even laid quietly on the sofa while Emily scratched his head. I wish I could tell Violet to relax, that Ike is a big cream puff.
I think you were visiting on Thanksgiving. Emily was in her high chair between your Grandpa Joe and her Momma. She looked up behind her Momma, up toward the ceiling. She clenched her fist twice, as if she was waving and then she looked directly at me, as if to say "Your babies are here."
Last night, as we were falling asleep, your Daddy asked God to let us dream about you. Well, I had a dream that featured Shelby. It was the weirdest thing, in the dream, we were eating at one of those major breakfast chains (we rarely eat at places like this), there was a big group of us. When I went to pay the bill, there was a black lady at the checkout stand. She said to me, "I have a message for you from that little girl." I asked "What little girl?" She said "That little girl, didn't you see her? She came in and was standing by your table for a bit. Then she came up here and asked me to give you a message. She said "Tell her Shelby says Hi". Apparently in the dream, there was more to the message, something along the lines of "Everything's good", but when I woke up, I couldn't remember specifically the exact words. Then, when I was in Albertson's later, I was waiting for the lady to bring me a new bag of romaine lettuce, and I could have sworn they paged for a Shelby. During Daddy's flight this morning, he said there was a couple sitting in front of him with a baby boy who was about 6 months old and that baby just kept staring and staring at Daddy. Had y'all been full-term, you would have been about 7 months old. Maybe that baby met you when you got to heaven and played with you for a bit. As it is, tomorrow marks your 11 month old birthday.
December has always been a hard month for some reason. I've always loved the Merle Haggard song If We Make It Through December, and it seems more poignant than ever this year. Although I don't much care for Merle Haggard himself (I'm still irked by that story that he swindled Waylon out of a bunch of money in a poker game was Waylon was stoned out of his mind. I don't support such behavior, but I will always take Waylon's side, as he is my favorite musician, as y'all know). Alas, I digress. Your Daddy has never enjoyed putting up Christmas decorations, on most years he does it simply to humor me. This year, I agreed we don't have to put up outdoor decorations but I do want to put up the tree. I have some ornaments for y'all and all the ornaments that I've gathered going back to the year I was born. Daddy has some ornaments from when he was a little boy too. Plus, Ike really likes to sit on his sofa and watch the lit Christmas tree. The dogs also have special ornaments, so we agreed to put up the tree. But the coming weeks are going to be just terrible. They mark the last few days of what was a relatively uneventful pregnancy. Everything changed between my going to bed on Christmas Eve and waking up on Christmas morning. It was the beginning of the end.
Babies, please give us strength to make it through the next month. Keep giving us signs that y'all are with us and loving us and are happy with our decision to try again by embarking late next month on another attempt to have living children.
Momma loves and misses you.
Hello my precious Shelby and Dalton,
I'm sitting here tonight, watching my Baylor boy, Robert Griffin III leading his Redskins on Monday Night Football against the New York Giants. He is a phenomenal athlete and seems to be of good character. His parents are still together, which probably has quite a bit to do with his maturity and composure. He is the face of Baylor. Sometimes, it seems so bizarre, as he wasn't even born when I started my days at Baylor, he was born during the second semester of my freshman year. I can still remember when he won the Heisman trophy, the ceremony was on Saturday December 10, 2 days before my ultrasound. So many of those "milestone" days are rushing at us over the coming weeks. I couldn't believe how your images appeared on the ultrasounds, that we could see every detail of your precious and seemingly perfect bodies. We really were blissfully ignorant, naively thinking that we made it through the 1st trimester and everything looked so good. I must admit, neither your Daddy nor I were paying super close attention to the 4 factors that contribute to premature labor when the maternal/fetal medicine specialist detailed them. I remember high blood pressure (which I never had), age of the mother (guilty of frittering away so much of our lives), and discord between twin weights (more than 20%, which you never measured until the day you were born), but I don't know the 4th factor. It really didn't seem like premature labor would be something that we'd be dealing with, but how horribly wrong we were. Thirty-one days after that ultrasound, you were both gone.
We somehow made it through Thanksgiving, and stayed sober. We both know alcohol offers no solutions, sometimes it just numbs the pain. We didn't even get to that point on Thanksgiving. Daddy had 1 beer, which he left on the counter half full, and then 1 gin and tonic, again leaving half of it in the glass. I had 2 small glasses of red wine, I poured a glass for Daddy at dinner, he didn't even take 1 sip. That was it. Our mothers were both pretty mellow, and there were no major issues. Grandma Nancy said grace, and your Uncle Ryan surprised us by initiating the hand-holding during the blessing. Your Aunt Violet is scared to death of Ike, and he senses that, so therefore whenever she holds your cousin Emily, Ike loses his mind. However, when Grandma Kay or Ryan or I hold Emily, Ike is just fine. He even laid quietly on the sofa while Emily scratched his head. I wish I could tell Violet to relax, that Ike is a big cream puff.
I think you were visiting on Thanksgiving. Emily was in her high chair between your Grandpa Joe and her Momma. She looked up behind her Momma, up toward the ceiling. She clenched her fist twice, as if she was waving and then she looked directly at me, as if to say "Your babies are here."
Last night, as we were falling asleep, your Daddy asked God to let us dream about you. Well, I had a dream that featured Shelby. It was the weirdest thing, in the dream, we were eating at one of those major breakfast chains (we rarely eat at places like this), there was a big group of us. When I went to pay the bill, there was a black lady at the checkout stand. She said to me, "I have a message for you from that little girl." I asked "What little girl?" She said "That little girl, didn't you see her? She came in and was standing by your table for a bit. Then she came up here and asked me to give you a message. She said "Tell her Shelby says Hi". Apparently in the dream, there was more to the message, something along the lines of "Everything's good", but when I woke up, I couldn't remember specifically the exact words. Then, when I was in Albertson's later, I was waiting for the lady to bring me a new bag of romaine lettuce, and I could have sworn they paged for a Shelby. During Daddy's flight this morning, he said there was a couple sitting in front of him with a baby boy who was about 6 months old and that baby just kept staring and staring at Daddy. Had y'all been full-term, you would have been about 7 months old. Maybe that baby met you when you got to heaven and played with you for a bit. As it is, tomorrow marks your 11 month old birthday.
December has always been a hard month for some reason. I've always loved the Merle Haggard song If We Make It Through December, and it seems more poignant than ever this year. Although I don't much care for Merle Haggard himself (I'm still irked by that story that he swindled Waylon out of a bunch of money in a poker game was Waylon was stoned out of his mind. I don't support such behavior, but I will always take Waylon's side, as he is my favorite musician, as y'all know). Alas, I digress. Your Daddy has never enjoyed putting up Christmas decorations, on most years he does it simply to humor me. This year, I agreed we don't have to put up outdoor decorations but I do want to put up the tree. I have some ornaments for y'all and all the ornaments that I've gathered going back to the year I was born. Daddy has some ornaments from when he was a little boy too. Plus, Ike really likes to sit on his sofa and watch the lit Christmas tree. The dogs also have special ornaments, so we agreed to put up the tree. But the coming weeks are going to be just terrible. They mark the last few days of what was a relatively uneventful pregnancy. Everything changed between my going to bed on Christmas Eve and waking up on Christmas morning. It was the beginning of the end.
Babies, please give us strength to make it through the next month. Keep giving us signs that y'all are with us and loving us and are happy with our decision to try again by embarking late next month on another attempt to have living children.
Momma loves and misses you.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Strange happenings
Tuesday October 22, 2012
Hello my darling Shelby and Dalton,
Another month is almost over. Another month closer to the holidays, which your Daddy and I are both dreading. Another month closer to your 1 year birthday, which may be the hardest day yet, aside from the days you each died. It's been awhile since I've posted and I have so much to talk about, I feel like my fingers won't be able to keep up with my thoughts.
After no weddings in 5 years, we attended 2 weddings in 6 days. Both were beautiful and in lovely settings but each had a different vibe to them. Your Daddy's former colleague married a sweet lady in the wonderfully Mediterranean-like town of Santa Barbara. Daddy participated in that ceremony, sharing in the Filipino custom of the cord that unites the bride and groom. At that rehearsal dinner, we met a gay man who commented that he was getting the first sleep in 3 months from taking care of his newborn twins. My heart stopped, but I had to know if they were boy/girl twins like you, so I asked him their names. Lillian and Lucien. This man seemed a bit pretentious at first, but we later told him our family's story. He shared our sorrow and was sweetly encouraging of our hopes to have living children someday. The other wedding was one of my former colleagues. Watching the groom, it was so beautiful to see the complete and utter love he felt toward my friend the bride. Both were good parties with great music and delicious food.
Your canine sister Abby has been acting a bit strange lately. I asked Daddy if he thought it was because you might be visiting us. He said anything is possible. Abby will be lying on the ground and suddenly start sniffing the air, as if there is a disturbance to the pressure in the room, or a new scent. She's done this a few times in the last couple weeks. Then, tonight, I had another experience which made me wonder if you were visiting. Daddy is in Montana this week, so I had to make my own delicious lemon water (nothing special, just ice water with lots of fresh squeezed lemon juice, but I made up that silly name one night, saying that Daddy makes the most delicious lemon water, and the name just stuck). I had just closed the vertical blinds on the sliding glass door. I got the ice from the freezer and when I stood up, about the 4th blind from the left was twisted back behind the other blinds. Abby sometimes weaves herself between the blinds, but tonight, she was lying on the carpet by the front hallway, and nowhere near the slider. I went over and straightened the blinds. I went back to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. When I closed the door and turned to the counter, the blinds were crooked again, but in a different way. It's as if y'all were playing in the blinds, but there was no sound, like when Abby rattles them. Nothing like that has ever happened.
This month, on Facebook, I've been participating in Capture Your Grief. It is something created by a grieving mom in Australia to commemorate October as Infant and Child Death Awareness Month. Each day throughout the month, she gave a general theme, and grieving parents are free to post as they see fit to talk about their children. It's seemingly at least semi-private in that non-participants don't seem to be able to view the posts, but of course, with it being on the Internet, nothing is ever really truly private.
Today's theme was Their Names/Their Photos. While we both treasure the few photos we have of each of you, your Daddy is even more fiercely protective of them than I am. To respect his wishes to honor your privacy, I agreed I would not post any close-ups of your photos or your actual photos. Another day I posted the altar at your memorial service, and your pictures may be somewhat visible in the collages Auntie Kelli made for us, which is a future post, but I will have to come up with an acceptable photo that doesn't violate Daddy's wishes. Below is my post for today.
Going along with the title of this post, I am struck by the similarities in the meaning of your names, which is something I don't think I ever realized until today. From the Town in the Hollow and From the Valley Town. We live in the Valley of the Sun. Since I was young, one of my favorite Bible passages has been the 23rd Psalm. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me. The significance of your names having almost identical meanings strikes me. And then, one of my MISS friends commented that her son's name means "from the western town", and that the 3 of you are covering all geographical bases.
I hope you feel that I'm honoring you both with my Capture Your Grief postings. It is traumatic to read all the grieving parents' stories, and I think of all the precious angels you're playing with in heaven who became angel babies at the end of last year or this year. This may sound really off kilter, but I imagine you as having a core group of friends up there. I think that's why I've made such a connection with their moms, as it was all of your hands drawing us together and making sure we wouldn't have to wallow in our grief alone. All but one was born at 24 or 25 weeks, and all born in December or January, except one who was born a few months later.
Hello my darling Shelby and Dalton,
Another month is almost over. Another month closer to the holidays, which your Daddy and I are both dreading. Another month closer to your 1 year birthday, which may be the hardest day yet, aside from the days you each died. It's been awhile since I've posted and I have so much to talk about, I feel like my fingers won't be able to keep up with my thoughts.
After no weddings in 5 years, we attended 2 weddings in 6 days. Both were beautiful and in lovely settings but each had a different vibe to them. Your Daddy's former colleague married a sweet lady in the wonderfully Mediterranean-like town of Santa Barbara. Daddy participated in that ceremony, sharing in the Filipino custom of the cord that unites the bride and groom. At that rehearsal dinner, we met a gay man who commented that he was getting the first sleep in 3 months from taking care of his newborn twins. My heart stopped, but I had to know if they were boy/girl twins like you, so I asked him their names. Lillian and Lucien. This man seemed a bit pretentious at first, but we later told him our family's story. He shared our sorrow and was sweetly encouraging of our hopes to have living children someday. The other wedding was one of my former colleagues. Watching the groom, it was so beautiful to see the complete and utter love he felt toward my friend the bride. Both were good parties with great music and delicious food.
Your canine sister Abby has been acting a bit strange lately. I asked Daddy if he thought it was because you might be visiting us. He said anything is possible. Abby will be lying on the ground and suddenly start sniffing the air, as if there is a disturbance to the pressure in the room, or a new scent. She's done this a few times in the last couple weeks. Then, tonight, I had another experience which made me wonder if you were visiting. Daddy is in Montana this week, so I had to make my own delicious lemon water (nothing special, just ice water with lots of fresh squeezed lemon juice, but I made up that silly name one night, saying that Daddy makes the most delicious lemon water, and the name just stuck). I had just closed the vertical blinds on the sliding glass door. I got the ice from the freezer and when I stood up, about the 4th blind from the left was twisted back behind the other blinds. Abby sometimes weaves herself between the blinds, but tonight, she was lying on the carpet by the front hallway, and nowhere near the slider. I went over and straightened the blinds. I went back to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. When I closed the door and turned to the counter, the blinds were crooked again, but in a different way. It's as if y'all were playing in the blinds, but there was no sound, like when Abby rattles them. Nothing like that has ever happened.
This month, on Facebook, I've been participating in Capture Your Grief. It is something created by a grieving mom in Australia to commemorate October as Infant and Child Death Awareness Month. Each day throughout the month, she gave a general theme, and grieving parents are free to post as they see fit to talk about their children. It's seemingly at least semi-private in that non-participants don't seem to be able to view the posts, but of course, with it being on the Internet, nothing is ever really truly private.
Today's theme was Their Names/Their Photos. While we both treasure the few photos we have of each of you, your Daddy is even more fiercely protective of them than I am. To respect his wishes to honor your privacy, I agreed I would not post any close-ups of your photos or your actual photos. Another day I posted the altar at your memorial service, and your pictures may be somewhat visible in the collages Auntie Kelli made for us, which is a future post, but I will have to come up with an acceptable photo that doesn't violate Daddy's wishes. Below is my post for today.
Going along with the title of this post, I am struck by the similarities in the meaning of your names, which is something I don't think I ever realized until today. From the Town in the Hollow and From the Valley Town. We live in the Valley of the Sun. Since I was young, one of my favorite Bible passages has been the 23rd Psalm. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me. The significance of your names having almost identical meanings strikes me. And then, one of my MISS friends commented that her son's name means "from the western town", and that the 3 of you are covering all geographical bases.
I hope you feel that I'm honoring you both with my Capture Your Grief postings. It is traumatic to read all the grieving parents' stories, and I think of all the precious angels you're playing with in heaven who became angel babies at the end of last year or this year. This may sound really off kilter, but I imagine you as having a core group of friends up there. I think that's why I've made such a connection with their moms, as it was all of your hands drawing us together and making sure we wouldn't have to wallow in our grief alone. All but one was born at 24 or 25 weeks, and all born in December or January, except one who was born a few months later.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Wednesday October 3, 2012
Hello my darling babies,
Today is a Wednesday, now forever the day of the week most special to me as Wednesday is the day you were born, actually exactly 39 weeks ago tonight. How ironic, 39 weeks, an acceptable length for a "normal" pregnancy. Had I made it to that mark with you, we probably wouldn't even be doing this blog. I just realized today also marks the 23rd anniversary of your great-grandmother Mary's passing (Nana to me). I was a freshman at Baylor, friends with, but not yet roommates with my closest and oldest friend, your Auntie Kelli. When you're an only child, you have to make your family, and therefore, I refer to many of my friends as your Aunties. Anyway, Nana had been sick for a while, and for some reason, your grandma Nancy decided it would be better if they called Kelli first when Nana finally died. Kelli and I had plans to go out that night, although now I couldn't say if it was for dinner or simply to run errands. Kelli came to my room in her bathrobe, and I remember thinking, now, why isn't she ready?! (yes, my legendary impatience rearing its ugly head again). Nana died, my parents called Kelli and she did as they instructed, coming to my room so I wouldn't be alone when they called to tell me about Nana. I don't necessarily agree with that decision, I think it would have been more prudent had they talked with me about Nana being in the hospital when they had visited 10 days earlier for Parents' Weekend. Their decision to not allow me to fly home for Nana's funeral was one with which I definitely don't agree. But, that is not your issue.
I am participating in this 31 day project called Capture Your Grief, started by a grieving Australian mom. As October is National Infant and Child Death Awareness Month, this mom put together 31 different topics on which we can post about, 1 for each day. So far, I have posted a sunrise (well, a picture of the sea & sky from our Alaska cruise in 2010); the picture of me taken on Christmas Eve 2011 when y'all were still with us and we were blissfully ignorant (before loss) and the picture of Daddy and me taken at the Tambo del Inka on our recent Peru trip (after loss). Planner that I am, I've already been thinking about the things I want to say or post for each of the remaining days.
Today, I spent most of the day helping the folks at the MISS Foundation set up for their biannual conference. Your Daddy and I are not going, as Daddy's friend is getting married in Santa Barbara this weekend, and Daddy is in the wedding. I was OK with that at first, but now that I was around the conference set up, I find myself really wishing the wedding wasn't the same weekend as the conference, as I think we both would have benefitted from attending the conference. The conference is held at the Fiesta Inn in Tempe. As I was driving there from the MISS offices, our Tahoe filled with the silent auction baskets, I was thinking there's a bit of irony in the location of the conference. When I was first hired by Deutsche back in 1998, they put me up at the Fiesta, as it was within walking distance of the office. My job at Deutsche is what led me to your Daddy, as he worked there too. We met later that year at a meeting in Las Vegas. As I continued with my Deutsche career and moved out here to be a field manager, I went to the Fiesta for many meetings, and picked up countless field reps there.
I also was thinking about the picture we bought when we were on our Maui trip in 2004. It was by Noelito, featuring the Na Pali coast on Kauai, which we visited on our honeymoon. For some reason, it came to me to today that the painting has twins in the name, for the 2 palm trees at the edge of the painting. That trip strikes me as we were there in November 2004, which is the same time your canine sister was being born. When we adopted Abby, the folks at the humane society asked if we wanted to know her birthday, we said yes. From her microchip, they were able to tell us she was born November 13, 2004. All of these things seem to be so intertwined in our lives. Just like the day you were supposed to be born is your Auntie Leah's birthday, and the day you actually were born is the day after your Aunt Adrienne's birthday.
Another thing that struck me today and almost made me crumble was thinking about something your Auntie Chris said to me last year while I was pregnant with you. She said "It sure is a good thing you got this Tahoe, with the 2 big dogs and now the twins on the way." Now, all we have is the 2 big dogs. The truck will never carry your 2 car seats. I was thinking all this as we were loading the auction gift baskets.
My babies, I am missing you tonight. Love from your momma.
Hello my darling babies,
Today is a Wednesday, now forever the day of the week most special to me as Wednesday is the day you were born, actually exactly 39 weeks ago tonight. How ironic, 39 weeks, an acceptable length for a "normal" pregnancy. Had I made it to that mark with you, we probably wouldn't even be doing this blog. I just realized today also marks the 23rd anniversary of your great-grandmother Mary's passing (Nana to me). I was a freshman at Baylor, friends with, but not yet roommates with my closest and oldest friend, your Auntie Kelli. When you're an only child, you have to make your family, and therefore, I refer to many of my friends as your Aunties. Anyway, Nana had been sick for a while, and for some reason, your grandma Nancy decided it would be better if they called Kelli first when Nana finally died. Kelli and I had plans to go out that night, although now I couldn't say if it was for dinner or simply to run errands. Kelli came to my room in her bathrobe, and I remember thinking, now, why isn't she ready?! (yes, my legendary impatience rearing its ugly head again). Nana died, my parents called Kelli and she did as they instructed, coming to my room so I wouldn't be alone when they called to tell me about Nana. I don't necessarily agree with that decision, I think it would have been more prudent had they talked with me about Nana being in the hospital when they had visited 10 days earlier for Parents' Weekend. Their decision to not allow me to fly home for Nana's funeral was one with which I definitely don't agree. But, that is not your issue.
I am participating in this 31 day project called Capture Your Grief, started by a grieving Australian mom. As October is National Infant and Child Death Awareness Month, this mom put together 31 different topics on which we can post about, 1 for each day. So far, I have posted a sunrise (well, a picture of the sea & sky from our Alaska cruise in 2010); the picture of me taken on Christmas Eve 2011 when y'all were still with us and we were blissfully ignorant (before loss) and the picture of Daddy and me taken at the Tambo del Inka on our recent Peru trip (after loss). Planner that I am, I've already been thinking about the things I want to say or post for each of the remaining days.
Today, I spent most of the day helping the folks at the MISS Foundation set up for their biannual conference. Your Daddy and I are not going, as Daddy's friend is getting married in Santa Barbara this weekend, and Daddy is in the wedding. I was OK with that at first, but now that I was around the conference set up, I find myself really wishing the wedding wasn't the same weekend as the conference, as I think we both would have benefitted from attending the conference. The conference is held at the Fiesta Inn in Tempe. As I was driving there from the MISS offices, our Tahoe filled with the silent auction baskets, I was thinking there's a bit of irony in the location of the conference. When I was first hired by Deutsche back in 1998, they put me up at the Fiesta, as it was within walking distance of the office. My job at Deutsche is what led me to your Daddy, as he worked there too. We met later that year at a meeting in Las Vegas. As I continued with my Deutsche career and moved out here to be a field manager, I went to the Fiesta for many meetings, and picked up countless field reps there.
I also was thinking about the picture we bought when we were on our Maui trip in 2004. It was by Noelito, featuring the Na Pali coast on Kauai, which we visited on our honeymoon. For some reason, it came to me to today that the painting has twins in the name, for the 2 palm trees at the edge of the painting. That trip strikes me as we were there in November 2004, which is the same time your canine sister was being born. When we adopted Abby, the folks at the humane society asked if we wanted to know her birthday, we said yes. From her microchip, they were able to tell us she was born November 13, 2004. All of these things seem to be so intertwined in our lives. Just like the day you were supposed to be born is your Auntie Leah's birthday, and the day you actually were born is the day after your Aunt Adrienne's birthday.
Another thing that struck me today and almost made me crumble was thinking about something your Auntie Chris said to me last year while I was pregnant with you. She said "It sure is a good thing you got this Tahoe, with the 2 big dogs and now the twins on the way." Now, all we have is the 2 big dogs. The truck will never carry your 2 car seats. I was thinking all this as we were loading the auction gift baskets.
My babies, I am missing you tonight. Love from your momma.
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