Saturday, July 30, 2011


We are home.  The beautiful mountains surround us, and all the rain we missed as we enjoyed sunny Saskatchewan, has brought green lushness to the valley.  The sun shone brightly today, and for the first time in two months, I put on my running shoes and went to walk the mountain.  It was a beautiful morning, and a gentle doe watched me as I tackled the big hill, encouraging me with her gentle presence.  When I turned around to go back, she had disappeared.  A quiet gift, on a summer morning.  For the first time since I was pregnant with Luka, there is lightness.  In my heart and in my thoughts.  Michael and I had the best trip home we have ever had in our married life.  Every moment, and every visit, was profound and relaxing.  We laughed, cried, remembered, and philosophized about life, death, joy and sorrow.  Something has shifted.  It happened slowly, but on Luka's birthday, Michael and I both felt at peace. We took a beautiful walk in Wanuskewin Park,  a First Nations sacred territory.  The wind was blowing, and it was lighlty raining. There was no one else on the trail, Luka's gift to us.  We walked in the wind, took in the beauty of the land, and remembered our daughter coming into the world.  As I stood on the prairies, where you can see for miles, I felt my heart soften.  In the gift shop, we bought a piece of art, to remember our daughter and celebrate our journey of this year.  In the evening, we gathered with family and friends, ate fish and chips, and strawberries and whipped cream.  As the setting sun streamed in, and the laughter of little children echoed throughout the living room, I knew that Luka's spirit was playing in the lightness of our hearts.  It was perfect.  Now that we are at home, I am ready for the next chapter in our lives to unfold.  Yes, I want to be pregnant.  But I don't know when it will happen, and I need to live my life.  My goal is to try and live in the moment as much as possible.  We have spent the whole year living in the past and hoping for the future.  And that was how it needed to be.  And now, my focus is the now.  Beauty. Laughter. Love. And Light.  I share with you all, some of the beauty and lightness we encountered on this very healing journey. Thank you to all who have supported us and loved us through a very difficult year. 


Monday, July 18, 2011


It's a hot sultry night in Saskatoon, and my entire family is watching the news in the very cool basement.  My mind is whirling with thoughts and memories, and I needed to write.  It's been only a week since we left Chilliwack, but I feel like I have come full circle in my journey.  At home, with family, still healing from our loss of our daughter, but a much different person than I was last year.  Stronger.  Lighter.  More at peace.  It's hard to believe that in two days, Luka would have been one.  Instead of having a birthday party, we are gathering with our family, to remember her little life, and honour the beauty and gift of meeting and knowing our daughter.  The last week has been magical, powerful, and extremely healing.  I left Chilliwack last Sunday, depressed and angry with the world.  I wasn't sure if I could handle being on the road in July, remembering all that happened to us last year at this time.  But what I have discovered has surprised me.  The first five hours in the car, I cried every half hour.  Listening to music, seeing the beautiful nature around me, and thinking of Luka and her time with us.  It was the first time in this whole year, where I truly felt like I was letting go of holding on.  If that makes sense.  To be away from our mountain, was the best decision that Michael and I have made for this summer. The last week has been a journey of discovery and reconnection.  It has been filled with laughter and crying with friends, silent and shared reflection with Michael about our lives, and the presence of Luka surrounding us in every flower, tree, and bird.  And in these experiences, I have come to realize three things that have helped me come full circle this year.
  Our friends Leah and Steve in Nelson, live their lives so simply and beautifully.  They are gentle to their bodies and to their minds.  Being with them allowed me to see how hard I have been on my body, and how I haven't been taking care of myself in the last year.  It was so important to come to that realization, and I immediately felt lighter knowing this needs to be my focus in the next couple of months.  I need to start taking care of myself.  I am the most important person in my life and I need to live my life the best way I can.
 My husband is the most amazing man in the whole universe.  He has helped me to be a better person, and continues to inspire me every day.  In the last year, we have gone through the most tragic experience of losing a child, and yet we have become closer than we have ever been.
As we have traveled together, this past week, we have laughed the most we have in a year.  We have hardly fought.  We have shared our dreams and goals for the future.  We have held each other as we remember Luka.  And we have reconnected.  Something happened this week in our relationship which has been missing this whole year.  I can't explain it, but it's been magical.
 Luka is with us. In everything and everywhere.  As painful as it has been, she has blessed our lives with love and light.  Her little life has affected so many people, and I am eternally grateful for having known her, nursed her and held her.  And as her birthday approaches, I thank her for getting me through this year, whether it be in the beauty of butterflies, or the gentle wind blowing in the window on a hot summer's evening.

Here I am. A year later.  Still standing. Wiser. Changed. And continuing to live my life.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

dear universe

Dear Universe,
                     It's July. A year has gone by, and last year on this day, the day Luka was due to be born, we put down our cat Mango of twelve years.  I remember, Universe, standing by the trees and asking you to bring us joy.  I looked up to the wind in the sky, and begged for you to bring us joy with the new little one on its way. Do you remember?  Because, I'm starting to feel like you didn't hear me.  I don't want to be negative, and I don't want to become jaded.  I believe in your power, your ability to give me guidance, and to show me the beauty of this world.  I want to believe magic still exists, and I know that I am being selfish for even asking, when war and pain rages throughout this entire world.  I am one small person, asking for one small thing. A baby. I wish it was Luka.  I wish she was turning one, and as we pack up the car to go on summer vacation, I wish the car seat, and the stroller were part of our stuffed car.  I know it is not possible, but I was just hoping for a bit of  joy this July.  Especially, after I take a pregnancy test and it says positive. It's a bit cruel, Universe, that three days later,  I find out from my doctor, that I'm not pregnant.  Very early miscarriage, or maybe never really at all.  Those three days of hoping, dreaming, thanking you for such a gift, in a month of such emotion and remembrance.  How can I continue believing?  I want to. I want to think that it's possible.  But, my heart has been broken again.  Aren't you sick of my tears?  I am. I don't want to cry anymore. Maybe you're testing me to see how much I can take this month. I'm trying to be strong, but the memories of last summer are flooding in with every moment.  Every smell, place, moment, clothing, food, is a reminder of last summer, as I waited for my new baby.  I know you are helping me get through this time, by providing  me with a loving and understanding husband, wonderful friends, and a supportive family.  And I thank you for the many gifts you have given both me and Michael over this very difficult year.  And now, as we head out on our journey to visit friends and family, I ask you to remind me of my ability to believe that it's still possible.  To show me the wonder of nature.  To help me embrace the sorrow and tears as Luka's birthday approaches.  To show me the magic that I know is there.  To open my eyes to what I need to see.  To hold my husband and give him strength.  To laugh with our friends. To share our memories of Luka with our family.  To watch the wind and the trees. To let go.  I don't want to be angry, Universe. It's just been so hard. Thank you for giving me the strength to go on and live my life.  All  I ask for now, is to help me continue believing.  To believe it is possible, and to trust it will happen. (and soon, would be great!)
Thank you for listening. Give all my love to Luka, whether she be in the wind, or the hummingbird that has been visiting every day.  Tell her I love her with all my heart and I miss her so much.

With deep respect,