letter to Luka on Mother's Day

Dear Luka,

Today I planted a garden, in honour of you my little one.  I woke up in the morning, not sure how I was going to make it through the day, and then I thought of your tree.  I knew I had to re-pot it to help the roots expand and get deeper into soil. We went and bought the most beautiful pot; earth colour, with waves of white, like clouds running through it.  It reminded of your softness, your gentle nature, and your connection to the spirit world.  I also spent some time buying flowers to surround your tree, to give it colour and richness, and remind me of all the gifts you have given us and continue to give.  As I walked through the nursery, I knew this was the perfect day to spend my first Mother's day without you.  To be surrounded by green plants, and brilliant flowers,  I felt at peace.  At home,  I lovingly transplanted your beautiful maple tree into its new home, and felt such joy and sadness as I watered it.  The leaves are blossoming and almost open.  Sassy came by to visit, and joined in the celebration.  As I planted the rest of the garden,  I asked you to send us a brother or sister.  I know you were listening, because I could feel you in the lightness of the air, and in the darkness of the earth.  Light and dark.  The necessities to stay alive on this earth.  The sun is now peeking through the clouds, and shining down on my little potted garden.  Your tree will grow tall, little one, and every day I will kiss it, until it is big enough to wrap my arms around.  And when we are blessed with another child, we will hug it together as a family.  I miss you on this Mother's day and everyday.  Thank you for letting me carry you, hold you, and love you.  You have opened my heart and taught me the true meaning of what life is about. 


With all my love,
Mom

try and try again

Another month has past, and we are still not pregnant.  Another weekend of tears and hopelessness.  It's been a hard few days, and yesterday I had a complete emotional breakdown.  It's been a long time since I let the emotions flow, and it was good to let myself cry for a solid two hours.  Lately, there are so many questions.  What if there is something wrong with me?  What if I don't have any healthy eggs? When is it going to be my turn to have a family? Why did we wait so long to start having children?  I'll be 37 in five months, and I'm starting to feel like it will never happen.  I want to stay positive and I want to be hopeful, but in all honesty, a part of me wants to give up.  When I was little I was always terrified that I wouldn't be able to have children. Was that intuition, or was is just a fear that I fabricated?  Michael has to continuously remind me that we did have a child.   I carried to term, and delivered a baby.  But I want a living baby and my life is consumed with thinking about it.  As hard as I try to focus my attention on other things, it is constantly with me.  I also thought this time of year would be exciting, with spring arriving and the promise of nice weather.  I do look forward to more sunshine, and enjoying barbecue's on our patio, however I am often reminded of being pregnant last year.  Being round, loving being pregnant, walking with Sassy, and talking to Luka as she moved inside me.  Last night I had strange dreams, full of vivid imagery and colour.  I woke up feeling mixed emotions, and wanting to go back to sleep and dream.  Sleep is so comforting.  It allows my emotions to settle, and gives me strength to hope again.  A few minutes ago a friend gently reminded me to stop hoping and start believing.  I want to believe. And there is a huge part of me that does.  I just sometimes feel like I have failed.  Failed my husband, who so wants to be a father again, failed my own body, and failed at producing a healthy child.  I know I can't give up.  I know anything is possible.  Here's believing for next month, and if not next month, the month after that.  Tonight I find comfort in my mint chocolate chip ice cream, a hot bath, and my Harry Potter books.  Life goes on, and even though I truly wish storks delivered babies,  I know I must embrace the natural process of creating life, and trust it will happen when the time is right.

the waiting game

It's finally a beautiful sunny morning in Chilliwack, with not a cloud in the sky.  Michael and I are enjoying a five day long weekend together, after having visitors in April, and the madness and wonderfulness of his show.  Today, it has been exactly nine months since Luka died. Time has flown by so quickly, and I am in disbelief that summer holidays will be here in two months.  At this time last year, I was getting ready to go on maternity leave.  Michael and I started planning our summer holidays the other night, and I hope with all my heart that our summer is a joyful one.  There are many things to be excited about, and one of them is getting pregnant again.  I have been debating whether to write about this on my blog, because it can be so personal.  I have decided that this story is about my journey to have a healthy baby, and I need to honour the journey with my thoughts and feelings.  Life is now about waiting.  Every month, waiting.  Getting excited, wondering, questioning, hoping.  Wondering if I will be disappointed or ecstatic.  I am one of those women who is obsessed with her cycle.  I even have an app for it on my ipod. I check it every day, and sometimes twice a day.   Like the days have suddenly changed.  I'm consumed with thinking about it.  And I don't want to be.  I want to be relaxed.   I want it to happen when it's time for another soul to enter our lives.  I want to live my life for me, and not for the desperate need for a child.  Last night we watched a movie and one of the characters mentioned this quote. "Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."  As I was falling asleep,  it kept running through my head.  I can't decide when I will get pregnant.  It's completely out of my control.  My body will do what it needs to do when it's ready, no matter how hard I count the days until my next cycle.  I also want to live my life for me.  To look at my life, and change what I am unhappy with, and what I am in control of.  Yes, a baby will make me happy, but right now I have to enjoy the life I was given.  The last nine months have been difficult, but also full of gifts.  The strength of love Michael and I have for each other, new friendships, Michael discovering his love of acting again and the excitement of new creative possibilities.  My goal today is to embrace that whatever happens this month, I will continue to live in the possibility.  It doesn't mean I won't be disappointed if I'm not pregnant, but I need to look around and see the beauty that surrounds me, and the opportunities that lie ahead.  Today we're going to re-pot Luka's maple tree, and give it more room to grow.  Every day the buds get a little bigger, and I am so excited for the leaves to finally come out. The tree will come with us wherever we go, and will be replanted in the ground when the time is right.  I've been really feeling Luka's presence lately.  In the spring flowers, the birds, and the new life that is sprouting all around us. I even saw a bald eagle dip through the trees, his white head glistening in the sun.  As I walk with Sassy, I feel Luka playing in the wind, and I can imagine her saying "It will happen, Mom! It will happen!" I look forward to giving her a brother or sister.  And so we patiently wait, enjoying life and all that it has to offer.

presence

I have so much to write, and I'm not really sure where to start.  I have been wanting to write an entry for a couple of nights, but I have been so tired after a whirlwind of a week.  So, on this cloudy Saturday morning, having finally slept in,  and the house quiet,  I am ready to allow my thoughts to flow.  It's been a busy week.  Michael's parents have come and gone, we attended a wedding, I had a brutal cold, and Michael's show The Drowsy Chaperone opened on Wednesday night.  I had a lovely visit with my in-laws, they are wonderful people and have been a great gift in my life.  School has been busy, and I am in the middle of directing a children's version of Midsummer Night's Dream, with some of the older kids at the school.  And every night as I fall asleep, I have been overwhelmed with the anticipation and excitement of life.  I haven't felt this way in a very long time.  Before and during my pregnancy with Luka,  I wasn't very happy with my life.  I was overjoyed when I found out I was pregnant,  and very excited for her to arrive and be part of our lives.  But, in my professional and personal life,  I felt very lonely.  Michael and I were so looking forward to having a baby, and opening our world to some joy.  So, when we lost Luka, I truly believed that I would never be joyful or happy again.  And now, even though she is not here in the physical sense, her little spirit is bringing us new found joy.  In November, when Michael was at one of his lowest points,  I convinced him to audition for the play The Drowsy Chaperone, as the lead character,  Man in Chair.  He did, and was given the part.  As he began rehearsals,  he would express to me his reluctance of performing when he was still in the healing process.  I pushed him gently to continue, and assured him that creating and performing this role was a gift from our daughter, and would be an essential part of his healing.  On Wednesday night, as I sat in the audience, and watched the love of my life transform and create magic on stage,  I knew I had been right.  Luka had brought him the most beautiful gift.  Michael has always been a talented performer.  I have seen him in so many plays, but never like this.  That night, I couldn't sleep.  I felt pure love and joy for my husband, the life we share, and the daughter we created.  I felt excited for our future, whatever it may hold.  I woke up excited,  even though I had to go to work, and had had only two hours of sleep.  It's a nice feeling to have.  I miss Luka every day.  I want to hold her.  But after this week,  I know she is blessing us in ways I can't even explain and imagine.  Michael's director asked me after opening night if I could feel the presence of Luka shine through Michael as he performed.  There is no doubt in my mind that she was present. And I know she will continue to be present as we continue through this journey of healing and hope.  The clouds are starting to roll in, and by tonight it will be raining.  But I don't care. Luka's little tree is starting to blossom, and spring is here.

blindsided

It's been a difficult day.  I've been feeling very positive lately, and our trip to Cuba was a great gift.  But last night I went to bed remembering and missing Luka, and when I woke up I couldn't shake the deep sadness I was feeling.  While we were in Cuba, I thought of Luka, but the least I have since she died, and I felt guilty for not thinking of her more.  This morning, as I lay in bed, I remembered her warm little body against mine, and I wished with all my heart that she was born healthy.  I tried to distract myself with Facebook, but I just became more upset, because there are so many people having babies.  The idea of Luka being nine months old and almost walking is heartbreaking for me.  I wonder how I would feel if she was with us.  What would our life be like?  I know it isn't healthy to think about the what if, but I couldn't stop thinking about it this morning.  In the shower,  I let the tears flow and hoped that the day would get better. We were off to see our wonderful friends Leah and Steve, and celebrate Steve's  birthday with his extended family.  I was excited to see them, but my emotions were very raw and I didn't feel like myself.  Many of Steve's cousins have just recently had babies, and although I have no problem seeing or holding babies, today was just the wrong day to be surrounded by newborns.  It was baby central.  Steve's cousin, a nurse at Children's Hospital was also there, who just happened to be in the NICU when Luka arrived by helicopter last summer.  I love talking about Luka, and telling her story, but I felt so vulnerable today, and I had a really hard time remembering and reliving those moments.  It made it all so fresh and I felt like running out of the room. I felt like running and running until all the pain left my body.  I see all these mothers with their babies, and I wonder if I will ever have what they have?  I know Luka will forever be with me in spirit, but seeing mothers holding their precious babies, reminds me of the longing I feel on a daily basis.  And today I was blindsided by the memories and the emotion.  When we left the party, I allowed myself to cry.  I wept all the way to the car and through the long drive home.  I just miss Luka.  Plain and simple.  I miss her warm skin, which was so soft to touch.  I miss her tiny mouth and little nose.  I miss the little curls she had on the back of her head.  And I feel guilty wanting another baby when I should still be mourning her.  It hasn't even been a year.  Once we were home,  I went for a walk with Sassy.  I needed to be by myself, and walk the hills.  Sometimes, that's all I need.  To be with the wind and trees, and the ever joyful Sassy.  Tomorrow is a new day.  It has been getting easier, and spring is almost here.  I have my wonderful husband, who gently reminded me today that we will have joy in our lives again.  In my heart I truly believe him.  I just hope it comes soon.

missing something

It's a beautiful afternoon in Chilliwack.  The sun is shining through the clouds, the robins are playing in the trees, and a hummingbird just flew by the window stopping briefly to look in and say hello.  Spring is on the way, and the trees are beginning to bud.  We are back from Cuba, and had an absolutely lovely time.  I flew in two planes, and survived two very long flights.  Our resort was nice and quiet, and the beach was stunning.  Blue clear water, sandy beach, and continuous waves to dive into and carry you back to the shore.  We spent countless hours in the sun, swimming in the water, walking the length of the beach and relaxing with each other.  We had an overnight adventure in Havana, and experienced the local culture, the poverty, the music, and the way the Cubans live.  It was eye opening and surreal, and I will always be grateful that we live in Canada;  a country where we are free to speak our mind and have access to pretty much everything we want.  It was a vacation well deserved and for one week I was able to forget about school and teaching, and just spend time with Michael, the love of my life.  Today, Michael and I walked along the Vedder river in the cool spring air and as we reflected on our trip,  I realized something was missing.  Not Luka, because she was with us the entire trip.  She was in the wind, the waves, the flight of the birds and in the trees.  I felt her deep presence wherever we went.  What I'm missing now, is a baby.  A family.  There were so many families in Cuba.  Mothers and fathers with their little ones playing in the sand, and teenagers hanging out with their moms and dads.  There was even a baby with two dads.  Being in Cuba,  I didn't really think about these things, until I came back to my life here.  I feel empty without a living child.  And I am worried that I will be childless the rest of my life.  I know it's silly, because I can get pregnant, and have carried a baby to term.  But my biggest fear is that it won't happen.  Our window is now open to begin the process again.  Which is exciting but scary, and a new journey full of hope.  When the time is right, I know my body will allow a little soul to develop and enter this world.  But the impatient part of me wants it right away.  Michael keeps on reminding me that I just have to let it be the way it needs to unfold, and to trust that the next child we have will have the recipe for life.  In Havana, there were so many children playing baseball in the street and making do with no green space to play.  These children are so poor, yet they find joy in the swinging of a stick to hit a ball. We gave them suckers, and their faces lit up with thanks.  I shouldn't complain.  I have a wonderful life, an amazing husband, a job that pays me well, and the money to travel, eat, drink and buy new possessions.  I have it all.  Except the one thing that I so desire.  As I played in the waves of the ocean,  I thought how much fun it would have been to have Luka with us, to experience the water as a family.  In the evening we drew her name in the sand, and in my heart I thanked her for bringing Michael and I so much closer together.  As I watched the waves wash away her name,  I thought about how short a time we had with our precious daughter, but how grateful I am for her gracing us with her beauiful presence.  Cuba was a milestone.  For months we have been waiting for this time to arrive. And now, on the nine month anniversary of Luka's life and death, I need to remember to live as much as I can in the moment and to ask the universe for strength, patience and trust on my continued journey to have a healthy child.

letting go of control

The sun is shining on a beautiful Sunday morning.  Spring is in the air, and we leave for Cuba in one week.  It's something Michael and I have both been looking forward to since we booked our trip in September.  I have been feeling such excitement and great anticipation.  Our trip to Cuba,  Michael's show in April, both our parent's coming to visit, and the hope of creating new life.  I haven't felt this excited in a long time, and when I look back on the last eight months, it's been quite a journey.  I know it will continue to be a journey, but it is nice to have a break from the clouds and have the sunshine stream in.  Now, I just have to conquer my fear of flying.  I don't know when I developed such a great fear of being in an airplane, but I'm terrified of flying.  I don't even like to talk about it, because I'm afraid that if I do, my superstitious mind believes something bad will happen.  Fear.  Where does it come from?  Michael told me yesterday I have an overactive mind, which I know is true. My overactive brain has a great imagination.  When I was pregnant with Luka, I had this overwhelming fear that I was going to die in labour.  It was something I really had to work through, and I did tons of reading and reflecting on my fear.  I'm glad I did, because I believe all that soul searching helped me get through the trauma I experienced with the c section, and losing my daughter.  I believe my fear of flying has developed slowly as I have aged.  I remember being on flight with lots of turbulence and as I clutched the seat, a little girl on her father's lap, shouted "Wheeee!!" every time the plane would go up and down.  The innocence of children.  Their utmost trust and joy in the universe.  Why, as adults, do we lose that quality?  Having been a mother, and losing my precious daughter, there is part of me that has no fear.   But deep down I have this fear we won't be able to get pregnant again, or  I will have another miscarriage, or I will have another Trisomy 18 baby.   Michael thinks my fear of flying and my fears of the next pregnancy are connected.  My fear of letting go.  I know I am not in control, no matter how much I want to be.  I have to trust the pilot, trust the universe, trust my body, and let go. I have to remind myself that I went through the biggest letting go experience of my life.  I held Luka in my arms, and told her it was okay to leave, that we loved her, and to go be with the wind and the trees.  It was the most profound moment of my life.  I don't want to be fearful anymore.  I want to trust, let go, and believe that everything that has happened is leading us to new and wonderful things.  I found this quote the other day in an article, "When the part of the brain that experiences gratitude is switched on, then the part of the brain that experiences fear automatically switches off."  I am grateful for so many things.  Great friends, my loving and supportive family, a wonderful husband, where we live, and my little Luka. I often imagine that Luka's spirit is a beautiful and strong bald eagle.  It gives me comfort that she is flying, with no fear and no pain, watching over us.  I'm off to spend the day outside, and hike a mountain with my lovely friends. To be with the wind and trees.  And who knows, maybe I'll even see an eagle soaring through the sky.