Flowers, Rainbows and Stars

Just over two weeks ago I got my quarter sleeve.  I had been simmering and planning on it for months.  The flowers are the kids' birth month flowers.  Daffodils for Grace and Henry and Chrysanthemums for Evangeline and Duncan.  The rainbow represents Henry, my rainbow baby, and the stars represent my precious Duncan.

Quote

"If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died--you're not reminding them. They didn't forget they died. What you're reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and that is a great gift." ~Elizabeth Edwards

I recently came across this quote and it rings so true. Most are unsure what to say or how to react when a relative or friend loses a child. This often leaves the grieving parents feeling alone and abandoned because relatives and family ignore the loss or skirt around it. We're not so fragile that the slightest mention of our child will cause us to crumble and fall apart. We want others to acknowledge our child and their life, however long or short. To forget they ever existed by skirting around them hurts the grieving parents even more. I like talking about Duncan. I'm reminded of him everyday. I smile when someone inquires about the meaning of my tattoos. Talking about him doesn't make me uncomfortable or reopen wounds. It brings me joy to talk about him, honor and remember him. I want others to acknowledge him and what he means to me.

Meeting with my therapist

I have an appointment on Friday to see my therapist. I was recently diagnosed with depression and social anxiety disorder, both of which I've had for years and I'm now choosing to address it. I *think* she might have said bipolar type II, but can't be certain. I'm going to ask her on Friday.

Toward the end of the first meeting I asked her why I came to peace with Duncan's death so early on. I mentioned to her that I never went through the stages of grief that many talk about. I never felt depressed, but what is that supposed to feel like during a tragic loss? How does one tell the difference between managing one's grief and depression? The depression started after having Grace so it's not something new or grief-driven.

I have long felt abnormal because I processed his death in a different way. Losing him hurt like nothing I've felt before. I physically ached. I still ache. At first I was too numb to breakdown and cry after the shock and reality hit. I felt so numb and in disbelief. I had watery eyes when it was realized he was gone, but I knew before the confirmation that he was no longer with me. Coming home with no baby felt so wrong. An (doula that watched Grace and Evey) greeted me with tears and a hug. She hugged me so tight as I stood there numb and almost emotionless. I couldn't break down. I just felt broken. I immediately went to the computer to work on his pictures after she left. I needed to see him again. Even if it meant just a picture.

I came to peace with his death and accepted it only weeks after he died. When I got pregnant with Henry and was interviewing the CPMs in the area and talked about my pregnancy with Duncan I was very matter-of-fact and technical. I am typically like that, but I guess others took notice of that and thought it meant I was handling his death so well. I handled it the only way I knew how. They way that felt comfortable to me.

My therapist asked me if I tend to intellectualize things. Funny that she asked that. My answer was yes. She was confident that this was/is the case here. I must say that I agree. She said that while the bulk of the therapy will be to work on the issues surrounding depression--irritability/temper/short fuse and SAD, she wants to address Duncan's death. She thinks it will help.

It's interesting that after almost 2 years I still recall the event like it was yesterday. I recall those memories daily. I know losing a child always sticks with you. I think about him daily. It's just amazing how fast time flies. Sometimes it feels like my world fell apart yesterday.

It's been 20 months

Wow. I can't believe how fast time flies. I remember everything so vividly, as if it happened yesterday. The memories and emotions are still so fresh in my mind. Duncan's 2nd birthday is in the coming months. Henry's 1st birthday shortly follows. It's very bittersweet. I think the world of my little guy, my sweet rainbow baby. He's amazing. My Joy. My Light at the end of a dark tunnel. I can't imagine him not being here. I look at him and see a little of Duncan, and that makes me smile. I miss my sweet Duncan. It's comforting to know he's still with me and the family in spirit.

He walks with me . . .

I will carry him through this life with me, for he can not walk this life himself.

I got Duncan's footprints touched up last month.  I love how they turned out.  Fabulous!

Reborn Duncan

For information on reborn dolls see wiki (everyone loves wiki, right?--- sarcasm)

I've been considering having a memory doll made for many months. I've always thought they were interesting, but never considered one for myself until after losing Duncan. A couple discussions have been brought up on a support forum for baby loss mothers. Some moms expressed interest in a memory doll. I've been drawn to one, but somehow would end up retiring the idea because society deems it "weird," "morbid," "delusional," or whatever. That a doll can't possibly replace the child that was lost. I have brought this up for debate on other forums and many non-baby loss mothers expressed that if it was beneficial for the mother in her grief then all is fine. The only time it becomes weird is when the mother begins treating the doll as if it's her real baby. It may not be the right choice for some, but I believe it's very much the right choice for me.

My friend Dawn referred me to a reborn artist that offers memory reborn services. I was amazed at her work when Dawn shared reborn William. So very life-like and real. She did a wonderful job recreating baby William. What has been really hard for me is that while I have come to a sort of peace with him being gone, what I have to remember him by doesn't bring positive feelings. A lot of the feelings resurface and I start thinking about all the things I regret. How I wish I had taken more pictures or how I wish I had taken notice to his lack of movement and maybe if he were born sooner we could have spent more time with him. Three hours was definitely not enough. He was so delicate and fragile. Even though he was dead I thought I was hurting him somehow. Seeing him in that state killed me and those images still upset me. I wish I had more "pretty" pictures.

Having a doll made in his likeness will hopefully bring me that peace and closure. Where I have something positive to think about. Instead of trying to fantasize how he should or would have looked like, I'll have something tangible made in his likeness. No blue/pale skin or blisters and skin deterioration. No vernix all over him and no dark red lips. I can't wait to see what Duncan would have looked like. The issue with having a memory doll made in his likeness is trying to find one that shares Down Syndrome features/characteristics. Finding a preemie size wasn't difficult at all. Just finding a *cute* sculpt that actually resembles him. I found two good matches, but the sleeping doll wasn't exactly cute to me. It had a lot of the Ds features, but wasn't very pretty. The other would have made for an older version of Duncan. I want a young/newborn Duncan.

Marilyn, the artist, recommended some sculpts. I immediately liked two of them, which were the ones she liked as well.

I'm planning on two dolls, one sleeping and one awake. Here's the sleeping version:

Here's the "awake" version:

Here's my Duncan:

Proustian Phenomenon

Last night before bed I lit a white sage incense stick. White sage will always remind me of my darkest time. It reminds me of the pain and heartache I felt days following the loss of Duncan. It also reminds me of the love and support I had around me. Lighting the white sage smudge the first time felt very cleansing. The scent brings back these memories and the emotions I experienced then. Every time I light a smudge or incense stick I feel a wave of emotions and memories wash over me. Sadness, pain, numbness, emptiness, and when the smoke clears I'm left feeling a sense of clarity and optimism. Another scent that transports me back to that time is neroli. When I received a crocheted baby blanket a friend made for me I applied some of my solid neroli perfume to it. Scents are very comforting to me. They're attached to feelings, emotions and memories. Those two scents will always live with me. They're attached to the most life changing event so far in my life.

Finding the Light in Utter Darkness

There were times I'd ask myself how I'd find my way back to the Light. The Source of warmth, joy, optimism, and hope. In the beginning it felt as though there would be no Light to come rescue me from the darkness that grew around me. How would I find the Light again? Would the darkness ever loosen its grip? I felt swallowed up in darkness without ever so much a glimpse of Light.

While wandering in the darkness unable to find my way back to the Light I realized that I had been searching for something else to pull me up, to rescue me, when it was me that was the Light I was searching for. It was in me. It was never gone. It just appeared that way because the darkness consumed everything around me. The Light was with me all along. It was then I was able to see a glimpse of Light, where the darkness had loosened its grip. Now I was able to find my way to a place of healing, peace and hope.