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.

hope

I woke up this morning to a winter wonderland.  It looks like we have about five or so centimetres of fresh snow, and it's still coming down in big flakes.  It's a perfect day to curl up at home, and do report cards. It's my least favorite part of teaching.  They take forever to do, and I'm really not sure how useful they are for parents.  I'd rather sit down and talk about their child face to face.  So much more personal.  Michael and I had a great Saturday.  We went for breakfast, and then went shopping for our trip to Cuba. I bought a new bikini, which is a big deal, because I've never worn a two piece before.  I love it!  Michael and I have never been somewhere hot in the winter,  and I have been dreaming about going to Cuba for many years.  It's perfect timing.  I can't believe in two weeks we'll be getting on a plane, and leaving for sunny beaches and mojitos.  When we booked the trip in September, it seemed like time was going so slowly.  My heart was broken, and I felt like life was hopeless.  When January arrived, I thought it would never end.  And now that February is almost over, I can't believe how quickly the time has gone.  Strange how you can live two realities.  In the past few days, I have truly begun to feel hope.  Michael choosing to go on leave has been the best decision.  We've been talking about things besides school, and have had some deep conversations about the past and future.  I've been remembering moments about Luka's life and death,  I had forgotten about.  I was looking at pictures of my pregnancy, and found some beautiful pictures of Seven, our landlord's cat, relaxing with me just before Luka was born.  I remember that moment.  Luka moving in my belly, the evening sun pouring in, and the sereneness of what was to come.  I remember the hope I felt as I walked the hills every day, and the beautiful artwork I created while I was preparing for her birth.  On the second morning of her little life, I remember how hopeful Michael and I were.  She was the most alert and awake, and for a few precious hours, we believed that she was going to be okay and we would be able to bring her home.  At her beautiful memorial, the wind gently picked up out of nowhere as we remembered her gentle spirit.  Hope. The last seven months have been the hardest and most empowering months of my life.  In the past few days I have been feeling a huge shift in energy.  It literally feels like the weight on my soul is being lightened.  On the way home from shopping,  Michael and I were listening to the new album by the Wailing Jennies.  Driving down the highway,  I looked at my handsome husband, and I felt this overwhelming sense that everything we want is about to happen.  I grabbed his hand, and held on. I could feel his love, and his hope for the future.  Cuba is what we've been waiting for.  And it's almost here. 

change

It was a beautiful sunny day today with no wind, and I woke up thinking about this time last year.  I was so excited to be in my second trimester, and I was starting to show.  Today Luka would have been seven months old.  How time can fly but also feel so slow.  We went for brunch today, and then I went for a walk with Marie in the sunshine.  It was wonderful to feel the shift of direction in the light, and the anticipation of the warmth of spring. The buds are coming out on some of the trees, and the magnolia blossoms outside my school seem ready to open.  I know it won't be for a little bit longer, but I can feel change in the air.  Change.  That was our theme for the week.  After many a discussion, and some deep soul searching, Michael made the decision to take a leave of absence from his job until the end of the year.  It was a very hard decision.  It was extremely difficult to leave his students, but I know that it is the right choice for him and for our relationship.  He needs more time to heal, and I support him with all my heart.  Our society expects men to get over loss so much more quickly than women.  And because of that I believe many men bury their pain and sadness.  They will work overtime, and run away from their sorrow.  Michael wanted to be a father so deeply, and the loss of his precious daughter has changed him in ways I never knew were possible.  He needs more time to take care of his gentle and beautiful spirit,  and I embrace this change with an open heart.  On Thursday, I told my class that Mr. Florizone was leaving. They all wanted to know why. It's amazing how innocent and curious they are.  I told them that he wasn't feeling well, and he needed some time to get better.  One of the girls said, "He doesn't look sick, so why is he going?"  I was a little reluctant to bring up why, but I believe in not hiding things from my students.  So, I reminded them gently about how I lost a little baby in the summer. They all went silent, but were listening deeply.  I told them a little bit about her and that her name was Luka.  One of the boys whispered. "Luka.  That's a beautiful name," and a bunch of the other students nodded in agreement.  It was a lovely and respectful moment.  I thanked them for listening,  and told them that they could ask about Luka anytime.  I also told them that I hope to have another baby someday.  They all agreed I would.  Then one of the boys said, "Can we talk about something else now?"  I laughed, wiped the tears away, and said, "yes, let's do some Math."  Life goes on,  but I will always remember the precious moment I had with my class, remembering and honouring my little Luka.  I am looking forward to the changes that lie ahead.  It will be nice to have my husband at home, cooking me dinner, and taking care of himself.  I know he will heal, and find a path to peace.  Our little maple tree we received from friends after Luka died, is planted outside our front door.  The buds are slowly starting to come out.  New life.  New hope.  The ever changing cycle of life.  A reminder that out of darkness comes great light.  Heal well, my love.  I know the universe is listening.

epiphany

It's an amazing feeling when you have an epiphany.  According to the dictionary,  epiphany is: a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple occurrence or experience.   It has been that kind of weekend.  On Friday night, Michael and I went to a benefit concert in Vancouver, with our friends Michelle and Ashley.  It was a night of great music, and honouring the beautiful life of a young woman who lost her battle to cystic fibrosis last year.  Her name was Eva, and her life and legacy is an inspiration to the world.  After waiting years for a double lung transplant, she received a set of new lungs, only to have her body reject them after two years.  She died in February last year.  She blogged about her life with cystic fibrosis right up to her death.  It is one of the most powerful and life inspiring stories I have ever encountered.  At the intermission, Michael went to get a bottle of water.  Behind the counter was the cardiologist who had treated Luka in the hospital.  He must have been volunteering for this amazing cause.  It was very strange and surreal to see him out of context, and for a minute I questioned if it was truly him.  But, I know it was.  He was the first person to examine and talk to us about Luka.  He was kind and optimistic, not to mention very good looking.  How could I forget?  The concert was amazing.  Wonderful musicians, deep thinking lyrics, and an energy in the theatre that was transformative.  The power of love.  The effect one person can have on so many people.  I couldn't help but think of Luka - the power of her love, and the love we had for her.   On the drive home, talking with Michelle and Ashley,  I realized how much I have grown in the past seven months.  To understand loss, is also to fully experience joy. And the universe keeps reminding me of that. Saturday morning we rolled out of bed, and went to see the acupuncturist.  I went to see her in September to help me heal from my surgery, and it helped enormously.  We're going to see her now to help us get ready for a new pregnancy.  To heal our pain and open our hearts to the process of beginning a new life.  As I lay there with needles in my whole body,  I repeated my mantra in my head, and opened up my body to the universe for healing.  It wasn't until I was at home, soaking in the bath, when my epiphany came to me.  Lately,  I have been in impatient mode.  Wanting everything now.  Buying a beautiful journal and not using it because I am saving it for my next pregnancy.  And I suddenly realized that I need to begin some deep and true healing.  To use my journal as a healing journal. To cleanse my body and prepare it for a new life. To love me.  I need to begin the journey to move forward.  I will continue to remember, love and honour Luka.  Always.  But, this weekend has opened a new chapter in my journey.  To embrace the now, and so that when spring arrives,  I am ready with a healthy body, and a whole heart. 

 

The following is a link to Eva's blog: 

http://65redroses.livejournal.com/

 and if you're not an organ donor, please register to be one. 

the odds are in our favour

It was a beautiful sunny day today.  The wind was cold, but the sunshine felt wonderful.  Driving home from school this afternoon I rolled down my window, and felt the fresh air on my face.  Spring is in the air.  Ever so slight, but it's there.  I had to go for a walk this afternoon.  I went and got Sassy and began climbing the hills.  It was my first walk with Sassy by myself since I was pregnant with Luka.  Michael and I usually go together, but he had an appointment.  I used to walk Sassy everyday in the last month before I was due.  While I was walking I would talk to Luka, and tell her how excited we were for her to come, and tell her to go easy on me in labour.  Today I chose to visualize and think about my next pregnancy and birth.  It is so easy to think of the negative and to worry.  There are so many questions that will arise with the next pregnancy.  Should we get genetic testing?  Should we have an amniocentesis? Will I have to have another C section?  Or, do we just trust.  The odds are in our favour, or at least I should hope so.  The geneticists, who are the experts, have basically told us we will not have another Trisomy 18 baby.  But there are all the other worries.  What about miscarriage?  Down syndrome? Will I be able to get pregnant again?  And then I look at Sassy.  She doesn't worry.  She knows that if I throw the stick, she will catch it and bring it back.  She enjoys every moment, and knows that life is meant to be lived.  We can learn so much from a four legged creature.  So as I'm walking, I remind myself of my new mantra - it will happen.  Whenever I have negative and fearful thoughts swirling around in my head,  I repeat my mantra.  And it allows me to think with hope.  I will hold a healthy baby in my arms.  I will have the birth that I want.  It doesn't matter how they are born, I know it will result in a beautiful boy or girl.  Or twins?  I will get pregnant.  I can get pregnant.  At home I cook supper, listening to Amos Lee.  Michael arrives.  We hug in the kitchen and begin to slow dance to the music.  Holding on to him, my heart is full.  In this moment,  there is no one I love more.  Our love has already created our beautiful Luka,  and in my heart I know that when we are ready,  it will happen again.