lightness

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

 

 

reconnection

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

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

dear universe

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

With deep respect,
Wendy

this is where I'm at

Summer 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.

roller coaster

The last few weeks have been a roller coaster ride. We put an offer on a house, only to have it fall through, I changed my hair colour to blonde, and I'm not loving it, and then I sprained my ankle on my first serious day of getting back into shape, in the first five minutes of a run.  Now, I am slowly healing, but it is driving me crazy and I just feel miserable.  I didn't really want to write a depressing blog, but it's been whirling around in my head, and I needed to get it out before I continued on with my report cards.  It's June.  Last year when writing report cards, I was feeling Luka kick and squirm inside me.  I was walking the hills every day for forty minutes or more.  Such anticipation, such excitement.  I felt great. Healthy, prepared, and in love with the growing baby inside me.  Now, I feel stuck. Trapped, with a sprained ankle.  My body is craving exercise, and I know Michael is getting annoyed with my crankiness.  The more time I sit and wait for my ankle to heal, the more time I think of Luka and last year.  Maybe the universe is telling me that is what I need to do, but July looms in front of me.  Luka's birthday, the anniversary of her death, and all the emotion that goes along with it.  Today, as Michael shopped at Superstore,  I waited in the car and watched a very pregnant woman and her two children load their car with groceries.  I haven't been envious of a pregnant woman for a while, but today, I just wanted to be her.  All I want is to be pregnant, and it's not happening right now.  So, I made the decision last week to get in super shape, and then I sprain my ankle.  Driving home from shopping,  Michael asked me if I was depressed.  As we drove up the mountain, I decided that even though life is providing me with challenges,  I am not depressed.  I'm having a rough couple of weeks, but in general I have been feeling pretty positive. I laugh every day, thanks to my hilarious friend Marie, who is my own personal stand up comic and provides me with insight and humour to my crazy life.  I have my wonderful and caring friend Michelle, who gives me wisdom and hope for the future, while letting me love her children, especially her almost 3 year old daughter Maggie, who brightens my days with her adorableness.  (I was crushed when she would not hug me as a blonde.)  My loving and caring husband who puts up with my grumpiness and hypochondriac tendencies, and who has cooked, cleaned, brought out the garbage and compost, and built us some beautiful furniture over the past few weeks.  My friend Sharon who always knows just what to say, who displays the most amazing grace, and has been such a support to me over the past year.   Vivian and Lorne, our generous friends and landlords, who gave us honest advice about our home we were about to purchase, and who have adopted us as surrogate children.  My amazing grade three class, who took care of me all last week, by carrying my crutches, getting me ice, and helping me to prop up my leg.  My parents and in-laws who have stood by us every step of the way on this healing journey.   Life hasn't been easy, but I have had great friends and family to ride the roller coaster with me, and to them I say thank you. I'm ready to get off this roller coaster now, and get on a smoother one.  Summer holidays are two weeks away, and I know this summer will be better than last summer.  I only wish Luka was with us as we celebrate her first birthday.  Last week,  as I sat in the sunshine enjoying our view,  I strongly felt her presence.  It was almost like she was saying, " This is going to be a tough week Mom, but I'm here to get you through it."  Thank you, my little one.  It's because of you that I am able to continue on this roller coaster of life.

moments

Michael and I have been married thirteen years today, and I have never loved him more.  All I want is to have another child with him, and this is proving to be much more challenging than I ever expected. Who knew that this would be the challenge we would face in our marriage.  We were so innocent and in love thirteen years ago.  I was 23, he was 25.  The world was waiting for us.  We have explored, played, traveled, laughed, fought, and cried through thirteen very amazing years.  This year has been the hardest on us both,  but our marriage and partnership has remained intact and become even stronger.  We keep going, loving each other, holding each other, and believing that anything is possible.  And if one of us forgets to believe, we remind each other that it will happen. As Luka's birthday approaches, my emotions lie on a thin line between being stable and a sobbing mess. Lately there have been several moments where I, without warning, have been completely caught off guard by a memory or reminder of our deeply profound experience of losing a daughter.  On the way to Vancouver on Saturday, an ambulance passed by with it's lights on. Out of nowhere, I remember being in the ambulance on the night Luka was born, on the bumpy highway, after having a c section only two hours before. Wondering.  Hoping that my daughter was going to be okay. Not knowing. But knowing that my whole life had just changed, and would never be the same.  I immediately burst into tears.  It was such a visceral reaction.  And then last night, while I was reading, Michael showed me a picture from his email of our nieces who just performed in a dance recital.  Again, I burst into tears.  I will never see Luka in a cute costume.  I will never see her look like a fairy princess.  I will never see her twirl and look pretty.  Today,  I had a substitute in my class for a meeting I had to attend.  She was very pregnant.  I made the mistake of asking her when she was due.  July, she replied.  I had to hold back the tears.  I can't believe it's been almost a year.   Finally, today we went to look at a few houses, as we are beginning to enter the real adult world and purchase a home.  Our real estate agent is a friend we met at our prenatal classes.  We haven't seen him for a very long time, and it was wonderful to see him.  As we drove away, I again began to cry.  I thought the first house we would buy, would be with Luka. To give her her own room. Paint it bright colours, and have it filled with her toys.  I will never see Luka grow up in our new house,  but I am still excited to be buy a house and start a new chapter in our lives.  I am happy and content to be with my amazing, talented, and loving husband, who treats me like gold, and makes me hotdogs for dinner on our anniversary.  With fries!  I know the memories of Luka will come and go.  And I will continue to let the emotion flow.  Thank you Michael for carrying me through this year, and loving me unconditionally.  When we are ready and with the love we have for each other,  I know we will welcome another child into this world.  Happy Anniversary, my love. 

 

last breath

It's been a whirlwind of a week but after a lot of hard work, my student actors at school performed, with great success,  A Midsummer Night's Dream.  It was a great accomplishment for me professionally and personally, and it was a wonderful way to end the week, and begin the long weekend.  Today is the ten month anniversary of Luka's death, and she has been in my thoughts and heart all weekend.  As I watch the sun rays shine through the valley,  I can't believe it's been a year since I was about to go on my maternity leave.  Last time this year, I was packing up my classroom, full of anticipation of the new little bundle that would be arriving in just over a month.  Now, and all this weekend, I have been remembering her last moments as I held her.  As we drove to our friend's cabin on Sunday, listening to music in the majesty of the mountains, the memory of her last breath would not leave my mind. The tears could not help but fall.  Strangely, as I turned to Michael, he was also crying.  It was a quiet moment, with hardly any words, but it was needed.  We listened quietly to the music, taking in the gentleness of the rain, and the misty clouds covering the mountains. We arrived at the cabin, and with great friends, we ate and drank, played games, and enjoyed the simpleness of just being together.  My friends Sharon and Rob have three beautiful children, and being with them always bring joy to my life.  We found our way to the park in the evening, to play on the playground and swing on the best tire swing ever.  As I climbed in, I felt like a child again, and was pushed high up into the air.  I have always wanted to fly, and as I glided in the air and felt the wind on my face,  I couldn't stop giggling.  I wanted more.  On the way back to the cabin in the dusk of night, I found myself walking on my own as the others ran ahead.  Luka's last moments once again entered my thoughts.  I remember as she took her last breath, a gentle warmth came over me. Although it sounds crazy, I felt a part of her soul enter mine.  I remember waiting for quite some time before saying out loud to everyone in the room, she had died.  As painful as it was, I wanted to hold on to that moment.  In the last week, I have been experiencing great joy, almost a giddiness.  I've been wondering if part of that energy is Luka's soul shining through, reminding me to play, laugh and enjoy the joy of being alive.  If she was with us, she would almost be one year old, close to walking, and we would be getting ready to spend our second summer with her.  But I can't allow myself to have those thoughts, because she was only meant to be with us for her little life.  The sun is peeking through the clouds as it sets, and is sending in the most beautiful light to our little place on the mountain.  I'm now going to take a hot bath, climb into bed, and fall asleep remembering my little daughter, who continues to remind me of how precious and wonderful life can be.