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.

Happy Birthday my sweet boy!

It's hard to believe it's been two years since I carried you in my womb, where you knew only love and warmth. It's been two years since my world came crashing down. Two years since I held you in my arms, felt your weight, cuddled with you and kissed you. We didn't have nearly enough time together. My heart broke into a million pieces all over again when I had to give you away to the nurse so she could take you to the morgue. Two years ago I went home with empty arms and a purple memory box. I had to look forward to choosing between burial and cremation and when we chose cremation we had to choose which urn would be your 'home.' Instead of enjoying the early days of your life in our home we were left planning arrangements with the funeral home director. I had to leave you in the hospital all alone. Leaving you there was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. You belong with me. I am your home. Your home is my heart. That is where you are and where you'll stay. You are so loved and so very missed. I think about you always. You transformed the very essence of my being. You taught me a new Love. Love in the midst of heartache, pain, and devastation. You are so unique and special. You are my son and I love you so very much.

Happy Birthday, Duncan!

Tomorrow is the day we honor and remember our babies

I wish there was something going on in my city.  I'm going to light Duncan's candle and a candle in honor of all babies lost too soon.

Face of Loss, Face of Hope

Getting the word out. Putting a face to the loss of a child. Lots of love to fellow babyloss mothers.

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.

What I want for Christmas

Besides Henry born safely into my arms . . .

I love cameo pendants.  I think this one is especially symbolic of this journey.  Duncan 'watching over' Henry.  It makes me cry when I think about it.

October 15th - Remembering Our Babies

Light a candle at 7:00 pm (your time) in memory and honor of our babies.

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:

12.21.08

Today brings pain, sadness, yet hope and peace. Pain and sadness because this is the day our precious son was due. Even though babies come on their own time this was the day we came to anticipate and look forward to. I wanted a holiday baby. He was due today on Winter Solstice. The shortest day and longest night of the year. I fantasized and imagined the weeks and days leading up to his birth.

I imagined he was going to be born around this time. I envisioned what his birth was going to be like. Warm cookies and Christmas movies playing. That is what I wanted. I wanted the atmosphere to be inviting and cozy. I was going to have a blissful and empowering birth surrounded by my husband, awesome midwife and daughters. This little tiny person growing inside me all this time was going to be born at home into my arms. He was going to be welcomed with Absolute love and joy. I was going to hold him tightly against my bare chest, kiss and smell his head and take in the whole experience. I was expecting this plump juicy crying baby. One I could nurse and cuddle up with. I wanted the prize. The pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

There was no pot of gold, though. No prize. No plump juicy crying baby. No happy birthday. Instead, 5.2 weeks ago at this very minute our precious Duncan was born silent. My absolute worst fear had come true. The one thing I dreaded throughout all of my pregnancies had finally happened. It was the day that would forever change our lives. It was the day the old me died and the new me was born. No longer was I the same woman or mother.

He is the son I'll never get to know. The hopes and dreams we had for him were shattered in an instant. Our whole world changed. Instead of expecting a baby at the end of the pregnancy I'm left with empty arms.

With pain and sorrow comes hope and peace. Our son may not physically be here with us, but he is in our hearts. He lives on in our memories. He will not be forgotten. He held on for just shy of 35 weeks. He was nestled in my womb and knew nothing but Love. He's our beautiful son. So very much loved and cherished. I know he's still with us. We finally have the answers and it can allow us to truly come to peace and continue forward on this journey.