tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39252038292879964992024-02-19T16:58:36.888-08:00My Journey After the Loss of a BabyWendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-77240365902465921772013-07-01T20:25:00.000-07:002013-07-01T20:25:30.119-07:00an ending to a new beginningOn June 24th, 2013, on an early rainy muggy morning, Finnegan Pierre Florizone entered this world. Strong, healthy and weighing a whopping nine pounds. Labouring with Finn was one of the most challenging yet amazing experiences of my life, and I would do it all over in a heart beat. I had asked so many women as I waiting for Finn, what labour was like, and I had so many different answers. There is no definition or right way of explaining how it feels to go to the deepest place to allow another soul into this world. I have never felt so grounded, so rooted to the earth, so connected to my true being. It's primal and messy and scary and wonderful, and yes painful. But it was worth it. And now here I am, on one of the hottest days of the year, sitting at the computer, writing what will be my last blog after a very long journey. I have dreamed of writing this blog for almost three years. I have had parts of it memorized. An ending, but also a beginning of something new and magical. Our loss of Luka has changed us in so many ways, and sent us on a powerful path of healing and hope. And now that Finnegan has entered our lives, I can honestly say it was all worth it. The pain, the ache, the desire, the laughter and the tears. Thank you to all who have read this blog, encouraged me to continue writing and sent us love and support. And now a new journey begins. The journey of our little Finnegan. I will always remember the moment he entered this world, with his powerful lungs and wailing cry. We welcome you little boy. We love you. We will tell you all about your beautiful sister. Thank you for choosing us as parents. <br />
And so, I say goodbye to this blog, to the thoughts and words that healed my soul. I love you Luka. Let the wind and the trees carry your spirit and give you peace and light. Come and visit often. <br />
My heart is full.<br />
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<br />Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-57700406241534844322013-06-06T19:50:00.000-07:002013-06-06T19:53:21.781-07:00waiting<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8mQ21j4eW42RYl4c2Xe0dlVT1M0wLsylo8VWrxHmGxSYhd7Nwr4QfWXJdCYQMUEsGtj0SnwnALwyynrTFmlhXFl1GQneBDEKS0Drx2dx8hUTxziwEm9MV1u5alxwrt1_1afuQ28xU_wmV/s1600/WM+(25+of+107).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8mQ21j4eW42RYl4c2Xe0dlVT1M0wLsylo8VWrxHmGxSYhd7Nwr4QfWXJdCYQMUEsGtj0SnwnALwyynrTFmlhXFl1GQneBDEKS0Drx2dx8hUTxziwEm9MV1u5alxwrt1_1afuQ28xU_wmV/s320/WM+(25+of+107).jpg" width="320" /></a>Waiting. The hardest part of the this whole journey and this whole process. A week and a half until the actual due date of this baby boy, and now patience and trust have become my daily focus. I am spending my days reading, walking, visiting friends, and enjoying
the beautiful weather. At night, I feel the baby move around inside me
and pray and hope all goes smoothly. Every morning I wake up and
realize that I am one day closer to meeting this little boy, who we love
and can't wait to hold. Baby is moving all the time, head is down, and I'm feeling ready to bring this baby into this world. It's hard not to compare the waiting for this baby, with my waiting for Luka to be born. Our lives have completely changed and opened up since the birth and death of our beautiful daughter. I have grown stronger, more aware, and opened my heart to the limitless possibilities of life. In the past few weeks, I have been seeing an amazing counselor to help me through all the emotions that have been surfacing as I get closer to giving birth. I was reluctant at first to see a counselor, because I was afraid of having to remember all the trauma of Luka's birth. But, I wanted to truly honour this baby's entrance into this world and not get stuck in the emotions of the past, when I am in labour. At my last counseling session, Michael joined me, and we talked about ways to honour Luka's memory as her brother is born. While talking, I shared the most profound moment I experienced when Luka took her last breath. As I held her and her soul left her tiny body, I felt part of it enter mine. It was like she needed to be with me still, the only place she knew was safe. And I realized as I shared this with the counselor, and Michael, that Luka will be with us as this new baby is born. Luka is part of me, and always will be. By honouring my body and the power I have within me to give birth, I am honouring Luka and all she has given us. Luka's death was a different kind of birth. A birth that has given me a life time of deep love, patience, and strength I never knew I had. I can give birth, and I will. It won't be the same. It will be challenging. It will be hard. And I want it. So, every moment I get restless, or impatient, I allow myself to breathe deeply, feel the wind in the trees, and visualize the moment when we hold this baby in our arms, and then after all this time and waiting, get to take him home. <br />
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<br />Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-88894035963056324732013-04-07T11:06:00.000-07:002013-04-07T11:12:28.883-07:00anticipation<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_vhw9wFyv8rifDI17jZMUr6LsEOEuM4X5PLPMti6mlLCO3xWOJ6GFyswub5h0jFy75XqpRapcMNqaUs08u3tj-VYxakLR0_a8Gl4KYKqzYYY8qoq4Ll6WhYcBLzjvGARB1KybWaqg5O0P/s1600/DSC_0010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_vhw9wFyv8rifDI17jZMUr6LsEOEuM4X5PLPMti6mlLCO3xWOJ6GFyswub5h0jFy75XqpRapcMNqaUs08u3tj-VYxakLR0_a8Gl4KYKqzYYY8qoq4Ll6WhYcBLzjvGARB1KybWaqg5O0P/s320/DSC_0010.jpg" width="214" /></a>Rain. The robins are singing, the leaves on the trees are showing their buds, and the smell of spring is in the air. Anticipation. Hope. Excitement. Feelings that are ever present in my daily life, as I wait for the birth of our baby boy in June. Of course there are all the other emotions. Worry, fear, the what if's. And the memories. Every day a new one comes rushing back, when I least expect it. I've been pretty relaxed this pregnancy, more than I was with Luka's, but as my belly grows and I start to think about birth, tears easily flow. Birth. Something I planned and dreamed of with Luka, and now as I think
about birthing this baby, I have to keep reminding myself that it will
not be the same. I'm planning a natural birth at the hospital, and I really hope to have a VBAC. But, another part of me just wants the baby out, and quickly to avoid any crazy complications or problems. At the beginning of this pregnancy, I didn't want to get too attached to the growing life inside me and I tried with all my might to stay neutral. We weren't going to buy anything for baby until just before, or after. But as I feel the strong kicks and movements of this growing boy, I have fallen completely in love. And, with all my heart and soul, I pray he comes into this world healthy and strong. As much as I don't like to compare, this pregnancy has felt so different from Luka's. I'm much bigger, this baby is super active, and I don't have the constant anxiety I did with Luka. Yesterday, we went and bought a stroller, which was a huge step. Returning the car seat and stroller after Luka died, was very difficult. I really hope we get to use our new one this time. I only have seven weeks left of teaching and then I begin my maternity leave. I know it's going to come quickly, and I need to embrace the now, and be thankful spring has arrived, the days are getting longer, and my belly is getting bigger. Today, I'm going to clean out the pantry, make turkey soup, and go for a walk in the rain. April showers brings May flowers. I'm going to enjoy as much as I can the last few months of being round. I have to believe that in just over two months the sun will be shining, and we will be bringing home Luka's little brother, our newborn bundle of joy. Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-70475887809130855472013-01-30T18:49:00.000-08:002013-01-31T07:13:51.051-08:00another milestoneIt's a foggy, rainy night, and even though I am tired of the gloominess, I rejoice in the fact that January is over, soon the buds will be coming out on the trees, and my belly is growing everyday. The other day Michael's dad told him that life has a way of turning around. It's been a long, difficult, beautiful, and enlightening journey, full of all kinds of emotion. But the best moment yesterday was when the perinatologist confirmed that our baby, as far as he can tell, is doing well, and appears healthy and strong. No markers of Trisomy 18, or Down's. I know nothing is a guarantee, but it was like someone lifted a weight from our heart's. Michael and I both cried as we watched our baby cross it's legs, put it's hands up to it's face, and show us his bum with a full view. Yes, it's a boy. Something we wanted to know, for many reasons, but I don't think it could have been hidden. He was very happy to reveal to us who he was. And although we have twenty weeks before we hold him in our arms, it was wonderful to have a little glimpse into the mysteriousness and magical world of our growing baby. Driving home from the appointment, I thought of my little Luka, and all that she has taught us. I miss her, but I know she had a part in giving us a son, and her a brother. And so we just continue to live day by day. Embracing the now, the beauty of feeling kicking feet and tickling hands, and hoping for the outcome we have so longed for. <br />
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Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-32255150124430543542012-12-11T19:09:00.001-08:002012-12-11T19:09:21.987-08:00and so a new journey beginsDecember in Chilliwack. Rainy, damp and dark. But in the darkness there is a wonderful glimmer of light, and the subtle butterfly movements of new life in my belly. Yes. We have made it past the first twelve weeks of pregnancy, and I have a little being the size of a peach moving around inside me. I am due in June. I have been super sick with all day sickness. As hard as it's been, I am ever so thankful to have felt so awful in my first trimester. Today I actually ate dinner out, and enjoyed every bite. So wonderful to enjoy food again. Today as we listened to the heartbeat at the midwives, and the little kicks and movements, I felt unbelievably relieved, and still completely terrified. There is still a huge road ahead of us. We have made it through the first step. Now we just have to keep on going, and trust that all will be as it should be. I put on my first pair of maternity pants today, (not that I totally need them yet), but they are far more comfortable than my regular jeans. I also told my students at school today, because there is nothing like the love and support from innocent nine year old's. One girl asked if we would name the baby Luka again. As this past few months have gone by I can't help but compare this pregnancy to being pregnant with Luka. The differences and the similarities. And all the questions. Will it work out? Will it be healthy? Should we get a million genetic tests? After hours of talking and debating, my heart and soul is content to not know the statistical chance of if I will or will not have a genetically "correct" child. The stress it would cause me to wait and worry, and in the end not have a definitive answer, is something I'm not willing to go through. We will have a detailed ultrasound at twenty weeks, with a specialist, and we will go from there. I am just trying to live in each moment and trust that the universe will provide. This weekend I sang in my first choir concert in ten years. Although it has been really hard to be at rehearsals through all my nausea, I am so grateful for the gift of finding my singing voice again. Driving to the concert in the dusk, the snowy mountains glowing in the twilight, I began to cry. Life hasn't been easy the past few years. But it has given us so many gifts. And although we don't have our little Luka, I have felt her with us during this very challenging journey. I am so grateful for her little light that still shines brightly in our hearts, and in the little beating heart of her soon to be brother or sister.<br />
One of the choir pieces we sang this weekend, is by Eric Whitacre, and is the most beautiful choral piece I have ever sung. The lyrics touch my soul, and not only remind me of our Luka, but of the light and hope to come.<br />
<br />
<i>Light,
<br />warm and heavy as pure gold
<br />and the angels sing softly
<br />to the new-born baby.
</i><br />
<br />
Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-73255743669268295562012-10-08T16:57:00.000-07:002012-10-08T17:20:58.590-07:00giving thanksThanksgiving day, and the sun is shining. Michael is playing guitar, while he waits for his bread dough to rise. It's been an amazingly warm fall, and this morning we took advantage of this beautiful fall day, and hiked Teapot hill. I've always loved fall, and this morning as I felt the coolness from the trees, and watched the sunlight dance in the coloured leaves, I thought of how we conceived Luka at this time of year, three years ago. So much has changed and so many doors have opened since. Last night we celebrated Thanksgiving with two wonderful couples and their children. One of the couples has a little girl, and is the same age Luka would have been, if she were still with us. At first, it was hard to be around her, but I am now so happy to know such a bright, lovely, curious, and special little spirit. I truly believe that our meeting this lovely couple and their adorable little daughter was a gift to us brought by Luka. As the months have passed, and as we continue to hope to conceive another child, life has lead us to many wonderful things I am thankful for. Our home, our friends from near and far, our families, my loving husband who tells me I'm beautiful every day, (seriously, he does), my new found love of singing in a choir, my addiction to Zumba, my little kitty Willow, good food, the sound of Michael's voice when he is singing, a wonderful creative class this year, my ever so comfortable bed, the ability to still cry when I remember my little Luka, and lastly, but most importantly, the opening of my soul to joy. It's so wonderful to live life with my eyes wide open. To completely fall in love with my husband again, after being together for almost twenty years. We've booked a trip to Hawaii for spring break, and we're thinking of Europe for next summer. And if pregnancy happens, well, it will be a huge bonus. Although I am disappointed every month when there is no positive sign, I have decided, I need to stay positive. I will keep on keeping on. I will continue to have hope. And I will continue to give thanks, for all that has been given to me, all that I have learned on this journey, and my little Luka, who has taught me that in the end, love is all that matters. Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-2019417862141839352012-09-03T11:46:00.000-07:002012-09-03T11:47:20.320-07:00mountain climbing<br />
It's a beautiful Labour Day morning, and the rainbow light from our crystal is dancing across our dining room wall, while Willow, our cat, tries unsuccessfully to capture it. Tomorrow begins another school year, and as I think about all the new things that are to come, I have also been thinking about this summer. It's been just two years since Luka died, and I finally feel like myself again. Grief is not linear. There are no clear steps or stages. I believe it's different for everyone. Losing Luka took part of my soul away, and to be honest, I didn't think it would return. But there has been a shift this summer, and I feel like I am returning to life, opening up my heart, and realizing how wonderful it is to be alive. At the end of the school year, in June, I was a mess. Exhausted, unhealthy, having heart palpitations, full of anxiety and depressed. I had lost myself, in a hard, emotional, and difficult year. And by mid July, I knew things had to change. I went back to the acupuncturist, saw a massage therapist, and began to exercise again. Exercise. What a glorious thing! As hard as it is to start, when you get in a rhythm, your body begins to relax and open up. It has been my saving grace. And now I've discovered Zumba, which not only gives me a great work out, it also fills that part of my secret desire to be a dancer. I feel like a different person. I am not the same as I was before Luka entered our lives, I am better. I am wiser. I am stronger. I am more alive. Luka has brought us so many gifts, and one of those amazing gifts, is the community that surrounds us. I am so grateful for all the wonderful friends we have, and their love and kindness they have given us on this incredibly challenging journey. And, as we continue to meet new and wonderful people, I give thanks to my little Luka, for bringing us friendship. The best thing Michael and I did this summer, was stay in Chilliwack and be in our new home. It has truly been a healing summer and as fall approaches, I strongly feel that we are beginning a new chapter in our lives. I don't know what the future holds, and I'm okay with that. What I do know, is that it's going to be a good school year, and things are only going to get better. Yesterday, we climbed Elk mountain. I hadn't climbed it in two years, just before I went back to school after Luka died. It's not an easy hike and it is quite steep. There are points you just want to turn back. But you don't, because you know what's ahead. And reaching the summit and seeing the beauty is worth every step. Sitting on the top of the mountain, with the sun so close, I know that Luka was with us. It's been a long climb on our journey of grief, but I am grateful for all the lessons I've learned, and the love I have received. Michael is making us pancakes and bacon, and in a moment we will sit down and eat breakfast. We will watch the rainbow of light dance around the room, and laugh at Willow chase it. She may not be able to capture it, but we know deep in our hearts the dancing light lives in us forever. <br />
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<span id="goog_2063993411"></span><span id="goog_2063993412"></span><br />Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-77437625243201780122012-07-20T17:08:00.002-07:002012-07-20T22:17:01.393-07:00a letter to Luka on her birthdayDear Luka,<br />
<br />
It's been two years since you came into this world. Hard to believe, yet so easy to remember. It's strange how the memories of your birth are still so strong after all of this time. I can still remember details, smells, feelings, emotions, and touch- like it just happened. I miss you. I miss your soft skin, your tiny curls of hair, and your gentle energy. It's been a hard year, Luka. Harder than the first. I thought it was supposed to get easier, but the pain of losing you is still so strong. We've tried a couple of times to give you a brother or sister, but their souls didn't feel ready to enter this world just yet. It's rainy today, but still warm. I imagine you with a purple rain jacket and polka dot boots playing in the puddles, your light blonde hair getting curly with the moisture like Mommy's. If you were here, there would be lots of balloons, and a cake, that I would attempt to bake. It would look a little sloppy because I'm not a perfectionist, but Daddy would spend the time making it just so. But you're not here, and I have to live in the now, so we're going to have friends over for dinner, and remember your little spirit with laughter and good food. We just came back from the ocean, where we watched the waves, walked the sandy beaches, and watched kites dance in the wind. You were everywhere. In the sunset, in the tiny footprints of children along the beach, and in the tall tall trees which I know are protecting you and keeping you safe. As I watched the other children running and playing on the beach I was angry with the universe for not giving you the chance to experience the life we wanted for you. But I take comfort that you are no longer in pain, and that you are dancing and laughing in the wind. We came home from our trip to find out that Sassy, our favorite dog, left this world yesterday to come join you. After you died, on those horrible dark days, Sassy was our saving grace. Walking her gave us the ability to trust and find joy again. We will miss her, but I know you will take good care of her, and go on lots of adventures together. Make sure you have a big stick for her to carry. Even though this year has been challenging, there have been many gifts you have sent our way. Wonderful friendships have blossomed. We have a beautiful house we love and feel completely at home in. Our little kitty Willow, gives us so much joy and laughter. We want a brother or sister for you Luka, and that is proving to be more difficult than we had anticipated. But we're not giving up.<br />
I have to start cooking dinner now. We look forward to honouring your little spirit tonight. And although there will be no cake with candles, your little light still burns bright in our hearts.<br />
Happy Birthday, little one. <br />
Love, with both our hearts<br />
Mom and Dad <br />
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<br />Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-2655541308787369512012-06-05T19:22:00.000-07:002012-06-05T19:44:21.730-07:00tandemJune. Finally. And...it's raining. But rain or shine, the school year is almost over and it will be our first summer in our new home. I'm looking forward to lazy days, reading a book a day, and enjoying the nature just minutes from our doorstep. But first, I have to get through report cards, restless students, and cleaning up my mess of a classroom. It will get done. Last week Michael and I celebrated our fourteenth wedding anniversary. He surprised me with a bicycle built for two, and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. Our friend Dave, took pictures, and we all had a good laugh as Michael and I tried to maneuver an old tandem. It was perfect. Just like the day we got married. That sunny May morning, fourteen years ago, was a day I will never forget. We were only kids, but I knew our marriage would be strong. If only I could have predicted how much strength we were to need. But our love has deepened, to a place that can't be expressed in words. All I know, is despite all the pain and sorrow, we are continuing to seek joy as a couple. We created our angel Luka with our love, and I know in time we will create another beautiful child, who will get to witness our love for a longer time. As we laughed and played amongst the tall pine trees on our bicycle built for two, I'm sure Luka danced in the wind and the trees, giggling right along with us.<br />
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<br />Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-83654870312485241092012-05-13T19:37:00.000-07:002012-05-13T19:37:18.339-07:00pink blossomsIt's been a beautiful weekend, and my heart is full. My life has been blessed in the past few weeks, with love, friendship, and a true sense of joy that I haven't felt in a long time. I am truly starting to feel happy again. Our new place has been the biggest gift to Michael and I. The space, the newness, the beauty of it, and being able to add as much colour as we can in our living environment. Being close to the river, running the trails, cooking dinners in our open kitchen, and having the best baths in my big tub, has invigorated my spirit. And on this lovely, warm, Mother's day evening, I have just planted some colourful plants, to honour Luka, and celebrate my being a mother. Sadly, my little tree we planted last year for Mother's day, did not survive the winter. But today, as we visited the plant nursery, with our wonderful friends Dave and Leanne, and their little one, my eyes caught a beautiful pink blossomed hydrangea, and I knew it was the one we would be planting this year. We are so blessed to have found such true and present friends, who have welcomed us into their lives. Holding their beautiful baby is a gift, and makes me believe anything is possible. And so, as Michael cooks dinner, I thank the universe for all it continues to bring me, the beauty of the earth, and the warmth of friendship. And thank you Luka for visiting in the gentle morning breeze. Happy Mother's Day, little one. I love you.<br />
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<br />Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-86951704792763453142012-04-20T22:05:00.000-07:002012-04-20T22:18:02.740-07:00strength<br />
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<i>That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind. <br />William Wordsworth</i></div>
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This week is over, and I am relieved. April has been a month of excitement, anticipation, and bitter disappointment. But I am still standing. Barely. Our new place is wonderful. We have so much space, nearby trails to go walking, a beautiful kitchen to cook in, and three bathrooms! Everyday I grow to love it more. I've spent a lot of time here in the last two weeks, recovering from yet another pregnancy loss. We were eight weeks in, and Michael and I both thought this was the one. My mother in law could feel it in her bones, and truth be told, so did I. But, the universe decided that it wasn't to be, again. It's been a crazy roller coaster, because for one whole week, we thought there might be a possibility that it was just a threatened miscarriage. At an emergency ultrasound we saw a heartbeat, but it was very slow. We so wanted to believe it would work out. Our hearts were open, ready for a little miracle. Sadly, I miscarried a couple of days later. Part of me wants to scream, part of me wants to run away, and the rest of me wants to start trying again tomorrow. I've gone through the whole gamete of emotions this week, from completely giving up, to hating the universe again, to complete acceptance, and then back to giving up. And as I write this, I'm not sure where I stand. What I do know, is that I need to move on. Move forward. Start running the trails. Spend time in the sun. Go for walks in the spring rain. Open my window and listen to the birds in the morning. Have friends over for dinners. Go hiking. Spend time with my loving husband. Create a meditation room. Watch a ton of <i>MadMen</i> and <i>Modern Family.</i> Laugh with my students at school. Start a theatre company. Meet new people. Spend time with close friends. Cuddle with our kitty Willow. I could go on and on. There's still so much to live for. Am I disappointed? Yes. Am I angry? Yes. But, I have come to the conclusion that this is my journey. Before I lost Luka, my life was pretty simple and easy. I worked hard in school, but it wasn't hard to find a job. I never struggled to find love, in fact, I found it early. I've never wanted something so much, and not been able to have it. And to accept the possibility of it not happening, ever, is very challenging. My friend Amber once told me, when she was going through a rough patch in her life, that sometimes giving up is easier than letting go. At the time, we laughed it off. This week, it makes sense. On the phone this week my midwife told me I was strong. I thanked her, and when I got off the phone, I began to think about strength. I certainly don't feel strong. Stubborn, maybe. Scared, mostly. I've been through a lot in the past two years, and I realize it's the people around me who have made me stronger. Family and friends who have stuck by me, who have listened, made me laugh, helped me see the joy of life, and given me hope. I find strength in others who have also gone through tragedy and come through smiling, wiser and loving life even more. As I crawl into bed tonight, my oh so comfortable bed, and listen to the rain fall, I know that this too shall pass, and my heart will mend. And, just maybe in a few weeks, or a few months, I'll forget about giving up, and want to try again.<br />
<i> The best way out is always through. – Robert Frost</i>Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-16925373287738546552012-03-11T10:42:00.001-07:002012-03-11T11:13:32.775-07:00springAs I look out the window and wish for sunshine, I am grateful that even without the sun, spring is in the air. Some of the trees are budding, the magnolia trees by my school are ready to open, and the robins are back. And I feel like I am back too, and the fog is clearing. I haven't written a blog in a very long time. I was worried I would have nothing more to write. But in the last week, the need to write has brought me to the computer on a quiet, overcast and rainy Sunday morning. The only sounds are the humming of the refrigerator and the energetic play of my hyper kitten, Willow, as she races from one room to the other. It's been a challenging couple of months, but wonderful things have happened as well. Michael started a new teaching job, we got a kitten, we bought a new house, and we had several visits to the fertility doctor. We are very excited about our new place, and we move in at the end of the month. Change. Something we have wished for, and something we have manifested. Our place is beautiful: close to the river trail, near coffee shops and grocery stores, and is our first home we have ever owned. It will be very sad to leave our mountain, our view, and our wonderful friends and landlords, Vivan and Lorne, who have become our surrogate parents. They have truly blessed our lives with their friendship. My health is starting to improve, and although I put my back out in February, I feel much better than I did before Christmas. And after multiple blood tests, (17 vials, to be exact) and a special ultrasound, Michael and I received the news that we are a fertile couple, and there is nothing preventing us from having a healthy baby. Our journey to get pregnant and stay pregnant, is just life, and unexplained. We had a wonderful meeting with the kindest, optimistic, and heartfelt genetic counselor, who assured us that it will happen. It was such a relief to know that our struggles are unexplained. The genetic counselor was surprised that I felt that way, because for some couples, it makes it more frustrating. For me, I felt free again. Free to love the mystery. Free to trust the universe. Free to really believe. Am I scared and nervous? Absolutely. But, for the first time since Luka was born, I don't feel fearful of it not happening. As much as I appreciate and am thankful for modern medicine, sometimes the mystery of conception and birth is taken away by all the answers. From my experience, we will never know all the answers to the beautiful gift we call life. As we get ready for our move, and I think about leaving this beautiful mountain retreat, I have been reflecting on the past four years. We have made wonderful friends, shared and borrowed Sassy, our neighbour's dog, watched deer and bobcats go by our front door, and watched beautiful sunrises and sunsets from our bedroom window. It is in this home, that we conceived Luka and where she grew for nine months. She was our greatest joy, deepest pain, and biggest gift. And now, as I wrestle with all the emotions of leaving this place, I know we are beginning a new chapter in our lives. The other evening after I came home from school, the storm clouds blew in. Amid the rain and sleet, there was a moment where the sun burst through the clouds, and created the most glorious rainbow. As I watched it unfold, I gave thanks to the universe, for reminding me of the beautiful mystery of life, the beginning of change, and the opening of the door to all that is possible.<br />
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<br />Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-3772277035568228842012-01-22T18:32:00.000-08:002012-01-23T07:17:41.072-08:00the invisible lineIt's been over a month since my last blog, and I have been avoiding writing even though there has been an entry swirling in my head for the past week. It's been a challenging month, and I have been, and continue to be, through some real ups and downs. At the moment I am in the constant flux of anxiousness and optimism. If you don't know me well, I can be an extremely anxious person. Over the years I have conquered a great deal of my nerves and over analyzing mind. But in the last month, my mind has decided it wants control, and my body is now in process of battling the ever powerful mind. In the last month, I have started to see a counselor. In our discussions, we came to the conclusion that the mind can be really cruel to the body. It can tell us lies and can confuse our intuition. I have also decided that I am a catastrophizer. I am someone who allows my mind and imagination to only think of the worst situation. I have always been a worrier, ever since I read my dad's 1960's medical encyclopedia's when I was a little girl, convincing myself I had every disease. And now, after Luka's death, I am worried that everything is going to be one big catastrophe. Everything surrounding Luka's birth was supposed to be beautiful and peaceful, and it ended up being the worst thing that has ever happened to me. So, I think it makes perfect sense that I would allow my mind to start believing everything important and meaningful that will happen in my life will be disastrous. And so this has been the cycle of my thoughts for most of December, and now into January. I'm working on staying optimistic, and there are days where I overwhelmingly feel that 2012 will be the best year we've had in a long time. Michael got a new teaching job, which he is very excited about. We met a wonderful new couple, who we just instantly clicked with, and I can't wait to get to know them more. My friend Marie, is getting married on the beach in the summer , and so summer holidays will be an adventure down the Oregon and California coast. We're starting the process of having fertility testing, and it looks promising. There are so many things to be grateful for, and to look forward to. But there are some days where it feels like there is this invisible line in my mind which divides my optimism and my anxiety. Some mornings I wake up and wonder which side I will be on. It's those days where I don't want to get out of bed, where I don't want to face the world. But I do. Because life is too short to ignore what I've been given. And the choice to face the day, gives me the opportunity to end up on the optimistic side of the line. I'm working on it. And there's nothing like a new kitten to help me remember to play, be in the moment, and take naps when you should be planning your school day. Willow is our newest member of our household. A new life to distract me from my irrational mind, and keep me laughing. We adopted her yesterday, exactly a year and a half since Luka was born and died. A perfect gift to remind us of how precious our daughter was and always will be. I'm hoping that as this year continues, my heart and my soul will not only win the battle over my anxious ridden mind, but I will find balance and continued optimism. And with all this work and healing, I hope the invisible line will become a positive one, and remain that way for nine months and beyond.Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-89678126186079631582011-12-03T16:17:00.001-08:002011-12-03T17:04:55.476-08:00when life catches up to youI've been at home sick, and as I slowly get better, I've realized two things. My life needs a change, and I still desperately miss Luka. Life has caught up to me, and in the last month, my body and my mind, has finally said "enough". Going back to work two months after Luka died was what felt right at the time. I needed to keep busy, and I had some great things happen for me professionally last year. But this year it feels like I am dragging my feet. It seems like time is trudging along, and nothing ever seems to give. It's like one obstacle after another, and I wonder if we will reach the other side. Joy. It seems so far off and yes, a million people will tell me to find the joy in the small stuff. And I do. I laugh and have fun at improv on Friday nights. My friend Marie, is always a phone call away when I need a good dose of comedy mixed with cynicism. I went to the Muppets, and remembered the simpleness of Sunday evening, when there was nothing in the world expect Kermit the frog singing the Rainbow Connection. But I want that joy of anticipation, the joy of waiting for something amazing to happen, the excitement of what lies ahead. This afternoon, I spent some time looking through the pictures we took of Luka when she was born, her little life and when she died. I haven't looked at them closely in a long time. My whole body just wants to hold her again. I'm still in disbelief that Michael and I created a tiny human being. And I am still in disbelief that I had to let her go. My heart longs for her. There are days when it feels like yesterday and the pain is still as strong. On a positive note, we have an appointment with our first fertility counselor in two weeks, thanks to the amazing genetic doctors at Children's hospital. They referred us and got us an appointment. I realize some couples wait months to see a fertility expert, so I am ever so grateful for this opportunity. They reassured us that the problem is not that we are infertile, we just need to find a way to stay pregnant, and carry a healthy baby to term. I'm hoping that this path leads us to what we desire, but in the meantime, Michael and I have made the commitment to make change in our own lives, whatever that may be. I also need to start taking care of myself. I threw myself into my job last year, because it's what got me through. Now, it's time to start focusing on my mental and physical health. Michael and I talk about our future, and how we will look back at these two years of our lives, and say to ourselves, "Wow, we survived that.. can you believe it!" I hope that conversation happens. Maybe it's selfish to think that my life is so hard, when there are so many people going through so many awful things. But I write this blog, because this is how I feel, in the moment, and it is part of my continual healing process. I am grateful to all those who read it, and send their loving thoughts. Thank you for listening to our journey.Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-9120791394047678242011-11-22T11:49:00.001-08:002011-11-23T17:28:39.238-08:00disappointmentAnother month gone and not pregnant. The roller coaster of waiting, anticipating, hoping and then pure disappointment. I can't do this anymore. It has become an obsession and my life is all about conceiving a child. Yesterday, Michael and I decided it is time for some investigating about why we're having trouble getting pregnant and staying pregnant. I'm not sure why we we've been avoiding it, but it's time to meet Dr. Fertility, whomever and whatever that may be. I'm nervous, because I never wanted to be "that" couple, but we are. The anxiety every month as we wait for my cycle to reveal a positive pregnancy test, is enough to send us both into a deep depression when it instead comes up negative. Really, these tests are to torture women who are very aware of their cycles. We have way too much information these days, and in a must-know-now society, early pregnancy tests just perpetuate the instantaneous need to know the moment you are pregnant. Whoever invented the home pregnancy test must be very wealthy. So, now we wait for a referral to a fertility specialist, which could take months. My question, is do we keep trying during that time? Am I willing to risk the disappointment? In all of this searching and longing, we also have come to the conclusion that we are in desperate need of some change. We have never been
people to stick around one place for a long period of time. I'm itching
for an adventure. If it's not going to be a baby adventure, then maybe
we need to take a big risk and do something completely out of the
ordinary. Overall, life in the past few months has been disappointment after disappointment. I am grateful for all my friends, my wonderful home overlooking the valley, and a job that pays the bills. But something is missing. Something that makes my heart sing when I wake up in the morning. I think I deserve that feeling. Right now I feel like I'm living in the no-thingness, which I know I need to embrace, and allow the energy to flow the way it needs to flow. This too shall pass. We can't give up hope. The universe might be providing a challenge, but what it doesn't know is that Michael and I aren't ones to give up. I will hold my baby in my arms before I am forty. All I ask is for the universe to keep letting in the glimmer of light, and the strength to believe that it will happen.Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-16654441734819936452011-10-15T20:44:00.000-07:002011-10-15T20:44:56.881-07:00we won't forgetToday is International Remembering our Babies day and women and men around the world are thinking and remembering their children they lost, never held, or only held for a short time. It was a beautiful sunny day, and in tribute to Luka and in her memory, Michael and I went for a walk with Sassy. The light was golden with a touch of indigo, and to make use of Michael's new iphone, we made a little movie of our adventure with Sassy. This is how I spent my last few months of pregnancy, walking with a yellow bundle of energy. Walks with Sassy have been integral in our healing process, and so here is a little taste of the joy she brings us, while surrounded by the natural beauty of our mountain home. <br />
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<br />Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-84357377187105096342011-10-10T10:18:00.000-07:002011-10-10T10:33:12.459-07:00givingIt's a wet Thanksgiving morning. The rain has moved in and by the looks of it, it is going to be around for the rest of the week. Time to start taking my Vitamin D. I'm about to peel potatoes, and prep the turkey for the oven; getting ready for the big feast we will have tonight. It's been a busy week, and I am thankful for this extra day off, to do laundry, go to the gym, and relax with my husband. Michael and I have been getting back on our feet after the miscarriage and leaving it behind us. Time to move forward. This week we had a lovely visit with my friend Katie and her husband Jeff. It had been two years since I saw Katie last, and when Luka died, it was so difficult to not be able to hug her, and spend time with her. On Thursday evening, over good food and beer for the boys, we shared laughter, memories of old times, and photos of Luka. It was amazing how raw the emotion was from both Michael and I. It was wonderful to share the story of our daughter, and the joy and memories she continues to bring us. Katie is pregnant with her second child, and I was able to feel her belly and feel the baby kick. It was such a beautiful feeling, and it brought me back to being pregnant with Luka, and the joy I felt as she moved around inside me. I so want that feeling again. Lately my conversations with Michael are centered around two things. The possibility of conceiving again and carrying to term, or beginning the adoption process. We always end up going back to the strong belief that I will be able to carry a healthy child to term. During the miscarriage, I was convinced I wouldn't try again. It's amazing how you forget, because now my desire to conceive again has deepened. How much of my body am I willing to give? Getting pregnant is truly about giving your body to a process that is never guaranteed. And so many women do it over and over again. In the last few weeks I have read and heard about women, who have miscarried again and again, and still go on to have healthy children. I don't know how long I will be able to continue to give, but I have a profound need to succeed, and to fulfill my soul's desire. Tuesday night is Glee night on television, and last week as the show ended with one of my favourite Coldplay songs, I was moved to tears. A wave of longing came over me. Longing for Luka, longing to hold her, be with her, and kiss her soft skin. The whole experience of losing her is still so surreal, and it's completely overwhelming when you don't expect the memories to flood in. But they do, and then they pass. Life continues. And on Thanksgiving day, I think of all the women who give their body to carry a child. I think of those who have lost, those that want to give and are not able, and those who have watched their children grow and become adults. Without women, none of us would be here. I am honoured to have a body that can give and grow life. I am thankful that I gave my body to grow Luka. Without her presence in my life, I would not be the woman I am today. And I am willing to do it all again, and again. Because, somewhere in the deepest part of my soul, I believe it will all work out and I will hold a healthy baby in my arms. I am now going to prepare Thanksgiving dinner, to give thanks for all the wonderfulness life brings, and to thank all the people in my life who give me friendship and bring me joy and laughter. Happy Thanksgiving!Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-77772758680959832012011-09-25T16:59:00.000-07:002011-09-25T17:34:21.499-07:00stormy weather #2I'm sitting at the computer watching a wind storm blow in across the valley. The leaves are whirling through the air, and the rain is coming down in buckets. I miss a good storm. It rarely happens here, and I always feel so lucky that I get to watch a storm brew from the top of the mountain. I have had my own storm brewing for the past week. My emotional state has been completely up and down, and it's been a bit of a tumultuous week. Now that the miscarriage is over, I've been trying to get back to my normal life, but it hasn't been as easy as I thought it would. School has been challenging. I have great students, but teaching a split has provided me with some interesting experiences, and I am trying to sort it all out. There were many days this week where I left school feeling incompetent, and not sure if I could make it through the week. My thirty-seventh birthday was on Wednesday, and I was glad to welcome a new year, but am really beginning to feel the ticking of the clock. I know I'm not old, but in the world of fertility, I am the dreaded over thirty-five, approaching forty. There are pregnancy books specifically written for getting pregnant and being pregnant if you are over the thirty-five mark. It's so degrading and discouraging. There are so many women my age having babies, but it seems like we are looked upon by the medical world as "risk-takers," because of our age. This week, Michael and I have started opening our hearts and conversations to the next step in this crazy journey. I want to believe that I still can become pregnant and carry a baby to term. But, there is the underlying fear that it won't ever happen. And so I fluctuate between exploring adoption, versus trying again. It is constantly cycling through my thoughts. And then today, as I stood in the checkout counter as Superstore, a young baby began to cry. I don't know where it was coming from, but it continued, and it was almost as if the whole world went into silent movie mode, because all I could focus on was the crying of the baby. It was the tiniest cry, but it filled the room, and I was taken right back to hearing Luka cry in the hospital. I watched as a woman rounded the corner of the canned vegetable aisle, and the crying grew louder. I just wanted to pick up the baby, and comfort it. I remember holding Luka, as she cried, knowing that she was hungry and I couldn't feed her, because she was too weak to suck, and my milk wasn't producing. As I tried not to sob in my line up, I watched the woman pick up her child, and the crying immediately stopped. Suddenly, I was brought back into the world of Superstore, the beeping of the checkout counter, the buzz of activity, and I began to place my items on the conveyor belt. Life goes on. However, in that moment, I understood how deep my desire is to be a mother. I'm not sure when or how it will happen, but as I drove up the mountain, I made the decision to persevere, and I won't let my age stop me. I will hold a child in my arms before I am forty. I will. The wind has calmed down outside and the sun shone for a moment and created a beautiful rainbow in the valley. Storms never last, and I know that next week is a new week. Like the storm, this too shall pass, and somewhere in this journey there will be a rainbow, with a pot of gold, just for me.<br />
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<br />Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-36754215417815899802011-09-17T18:35:00.000-07:002011-09-17T18:40:01.451-07:00blightedIt's a cool Saturday evening, and the rain has finally settled in after having battle with the sun all day. The smell of homemade chicken soup is wafting through the apartment, and I just woke up from an afternoon nap. And now I write a blog that I didn't expect to write on this journey. Michael and I have experienced a miscarriage. A blighted ovum, according to the medical world. I was almost nine weeks pregnant, when due to some spotting, I went in for an emergency ultrasound. They found a gestational sac, but no baby. My levels were tested, and they were falling. Apparently the baby never developed but my body believed it was still pregnant, and continued growing an empty sac. We were just starting to get excited, and the promise of new life was giving Michael and I a rejuvenation in our own lives. Every day that I woke up still pregnant, the layers of cautious optimism were peeling away to allow for hopeful excitement. I was starting to look forward to showing my round belly, to take out the maternity clothes I had packed away, and was imagining the birth of a baby in April. But those hopes have been blighted. And the trusting process, of believing that I will ever have a healthy child of my own, has once again been taken away. Yet strangely, although this was a huge disappointment, I am not devastated. I feel like I am stuck between totally giving up, and persevering until we succeed. Maybe I take comfort in the fact there was never really a baby. What I do know, is I need to take some time to heal my body, and move forward with my life. I need some time to get back to the gym, and get my body back in shape. I need some time, to really figure out if I want to take the risk of being disappointed again. There are many questions that need to be answered. Do we see a fertility specialist? Do we think about adoption? Two different paths, and I'm not ready to dive into either of them. Yet. I'm going to take the next few months for me. Last night we had our first improv rehearsal. I wasn't going to go, because I was so tired from a rough week, and a stressful day at school. But I am so glad I did. It was so much fun to play, be silly and take creative risks. And I laughed. A great way to end this week. I woke up this morning, thinking how much has changed since last September. Michael is making furniture and is happy being a teacher on call. We have great friends and I still wake up and marvel at the gorgeous mountain view from my bedroom window. The word blighted is defined as something that impedes growth, or impedes progress and prosperity. Something prevented this pregnancy from developing, and I will never know why. What I do know, is that I am still growing and progressing as a person, and at this moment, that is what is most important. Will I ever get pregnant and carry a healthy baby to term? I hope so. But life is a mystery, and for now, I choose to get back to my life. Michael is cutting vegetables, and the soup is almost ready. We will break bread, eat hot soup, while I drink and savor a big glass of red wine. A toast to what may or may not come, but still filled with hope and possibility. Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-83609899556382327552011-09-04T12:18:00.000-07:002011-09-04T12:29:47.998-07:00September<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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September. A time of reflection, hope and new beginnings. It's strange, how when the leaves are falling and everything is going dormant for the winter, everything in our lives is beginning anew. School, new classes, new seasons of television shows, and trying new things. I love this time of year. Always have. The sun setting a little bit earlier, crisp fall apples from the Okanagan, new clothes, and yes, I was one of those children who loved going back to school. As least from what I can remember. August was a good month, and one of the first month's since Luka died, where I haven't cried every day. In fact, I've been pretty happy. Enjoying the hot summer, meeting new people, spending time with my husband, and just focusing on the now. In the last few days, as we've rolled into September, the memories of Luka have begun to surface again. She's never far from my mind, but it was nice to feel free from the thoughts and the pain for a while. Putting that in writing, makes me feel guilty. I don't want to forget, but the lightness I have felt has been so refreshing. And as I go back to school, and feel the fall evening air, I wish she was here. Last year, we were so freshly mourning, that I wasn't even aware of the arrival of fall. Now that I am so much more present, I wish I could share my favourite time of year with her. I'm nervous about school this year. My first year teaching a split class, lots of changes at the school, and Michael being a teacher on call. It's going to be very different. But I know it will be a good different. It's just going to take some adjusting. My goal is to just enjoy the students I have in my class, focus on them and their wonderfulness, and try new things outside of school. I'm going to try my hand at improv, and will continue to go to yoga. And of course, continue to hope for new life. In all this newness, I hope that a seed will grow. I just have to continue to believe that it will happen. In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy evening walks with Michael and Sassy, cool weather, macintosh apples, Sunday morning pancakes and bacon, and the gentleness of Luka in the fall wind and the changing colour of the trees.<br />
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I found this on my pillow one evening before I went to sleep. It is now posted above my pillow, to remind me that anything is possible. I love my husband.Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-38852362541609746902011-08-15T11:21:00.000-07:002011-08-15T13:58:13.904-07:00braveryLast night as Michael and I were talking in bed, he asked me if I felt braver because of losing Luka. It was a great question and it has me wondering and thinking about it as I eat my breakfast and watch the sun shine through the clouds. It has been a crazy journey, and I honestly feel the most peaceful and calm I have in a long time. I haven't been teary, and the memories of Luka aren't invading my mind as prevalently as they did before July. Like yoga, when you return to the breath, I am trying to turn my thoughts to the now, the present. When I get caught up in memories, or hopes for the next pregnancy, I have to remind myself, that all I have is the now. It's been a great mantra. As I thought about Michael's question, I decided to look up the definition of brave in the dictionary. <span id="hotword"><i><b><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"> Possessing</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">exhibiting</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">courage</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">courageous</span> </b><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><b>endurance.</b> </span></i></span><span id="hotword"><i><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"> </span></i><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">Have I been courageous? There have been days where I have felt like curling up in a ball and never leaving the house, but I have also felt limitlessness potential to live an amazing life. Loss has a funny way of making you want more out of life. Yes, grief can consume you, but at some point you have to make a choice. To shut down, or to open up. I believe many people think it's easier to shut down. But, really it's not. There is something beautiful about honouring the grief, and coming out on the other side, stronger and more vulnerable at the same time. I know Michael is much braver than before Luka. He has opened up his creative spirit, and is trusting who he really is. So often in life we don't do what we really want to do because of fear of rejection and what others may think. It's wonderful to see my husband pursue his creative path. I don't doubt that losing Luka, was a huge catalyst for his new journey. I also have seen strength in me, that I didn't know existed. I barreled through a teaching year, and decided to share my passion for theatre with my students, and it paid off both professionally and personally. I used to worry if I was good enough, or if my philosophy and teaching style were acceptable. Losing Luka, has ignited my belief that creativity and the Fine Arts are the core of who I am, and that my passion lies in teaching this to my students. It's what makes me interesting. Life is too short to compromise on your own belief system. So, to answer Michael's question, I would say yes, I am braver. We both are. But more importantly, we have opened up our hearts to the possibility of life and loss. The joy, the laughter, the hopes, the dreams, the pain and the sorrow. This is the foundation of art and creativity. Without joy and sorrow, we wouldn't have Mozart, Van Gogh, Lady Gaga, or any performer, artist or actor. Earlier this summer, I asked people if we have more joy or sorrow in our lives. My favourite answer was from Darren who wrote, "<i>Joy. Sorrow is what we remember.</i>" I do think we have more joy, and we forget it so easily because it comes so naturally. And I think we need to remember sorrow, to truly experience joy. As I move forward in my life, I am trying to live bravely in the moment, by embracing the waves of sorrow, and opening my heart to the beauty and joy of daily life.</span></span><br />
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<span id="hotword"><b><i><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">The artist is extremely lucky who is presented with the worst possible ordeal which will not actually kill him. At that point he is in business. </span></i></b></span><br />
<span id="hotword"><b><i><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"> John Barrymore </span></i></b></span><br />
<span id="hotword"><b><i><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"> </span></i></b><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"></span> </span>Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-66087528153067196552011-07-30T21:36:00.000-07:002011-07-30T21:47:44.702-07:00lightnessWe 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. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-61366519784333109632011-07-18T21:59:00.000-07:002011-07-18T21:59:07.821-07:00reconnectionIt'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.<br />
First:<br />
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.<br />
Secondly:<br />
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.<br />
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.<br />
Lastly:<br />
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.<br />
<br />
Here I am. A year later. Still standing. Wiser. Changed. And continuing to live my life.Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-41336936506854097012011-07-09T15:21:00.000-07:002011-07-09T15:30:22.166-07:00dear universeDear Universe,<br />
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!)<br />
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.<br />
<br />
With deep respect,<br />
WendyWendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3925203829287996499.post-8081182265867194992011-06-26T20:24:00.000-07:002011-06-26T20:26:21.859-07:00this is where I'm atSummer holidays are four days away, (not that I'm counting), and I'm very grateful for the thought of sleeping in, lounging in the sun, reading and doing nothing. Life hasn't been easy the past few weeks. My ankle is healing very slowly, and I have been feeling quite stuck. As July approaches, my emotions are all over the place. Friday night I had a big emotional break down, and cried for an hour. Usually after that release, and a good night's sleep, I wake up feeling refreshed. But I just woke up angry. Angry, because my ankle is taking forever to heal. Angry, because I can't go for walks with Michael and Sassy. Angry, because I don't have Luka. Angry, because a new pregnancy seems impossible. All Saturday morning, I just stewed. A big pot of swirling frustration and anger. I know that underneath all the anger is just deep pain. I craved exercise, and I managed to go for a bike ride without my ankle hurting. Getting on my bike was the best remedy. I cruised through the paths, Michael barely able to keep up. I needed it. To feel the wind on my face, hear my heart rate increase, and feel the sweat on my back. Letting my anger slowly melt away. Later in the evening, we went and saw a movie with our friends Sharon and Rob, and then went for a bite to eat. The conversation eventually led to Luka, and my desire to get pregnant again. My wise friend Sharon talked about our grief being a gift, and instead of it hardening our hearts, we need to open ourselves to others and give grace. I thought about all the anger I have been harboring in the past few weeks, and how I have felt numb. She talked about the power we have, as teachers and as compassionate souls, to change lives. My heart does feel a bit hardened as I think about the journey we have gone through. A whole year has gone by, and I sometimes feel like it won't get easier, even though I know it already has. I don't want to forget Luka, but I know Sharon is right when she says I can't let my loss keep me from living and loving my life. After Sharon shared her wisdom, Rob simply said, "Maybe, this is where you need to be at right now. In this time and place, this is where you're at." Which, as simple as it sounds, rang true. They were both right. I need to open my heart but also embrace this stage in the grieving process. The experts say there are stages of grief, and it's a series of linear steps. But I don't believe that those stages are linear, I think it twists and turns, like the roller coaster I wrote about in my last blog. Right now, I am between anger and acceptance. I don't know when it will change, or how long it will take for it to change. But this is where I'm at. And the one thing I do know, is that this summer will not be like last summer. As we drove up the mountain today, I rolled down the windows and let the breeze flow in, remembering Luka. I think about her each time we go up the mountain. Knowing she's with us. Loving us and accepting us for where we're at. No matter what.Wendy Bickishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11681484099240773577noreply@blogger.com0