Handbook For Grief

When your baby dies, no one at the hospital gives you a handbook for how to grieve. Especially not one you barely knew. There is no one to tell you how you are supposed to get through it. No one tells you about the ups and downs and going through the process time and time again.

I know there is no right way or wrong way. I want to go back to normal but I do not want to forget. As irrational as it may seem, trying to move on can fill me with guilt. Doing normal, everyday things can feel like a betrayal. But then, I think, what is the alternative? To be awash in sadness every moment of the day? No. My friend told me that after her sister passed, she had similar feelings, but that your mind and body want to protect themselves. They don't want to feel pain. So, we escape. And that is OK.

Then, some days are hard. Yesterday was not easy. Phineas would have been 4 weeks old. I imagined a little bit of what my girls were doing at that age. That's when the emotion comes crashing down. In some ways, it is like you are standing on a beach, right where the waves are coming in. The water will pull back and you will barely feel wet and you feel like you can move quite easily. Then a wave comes and you can take it. It isn't too bad. And then there are those waves that take you by surprise. They don't look to bad, but then when they arrive, they knock you over. It is a process that repeats over and over.

Some day, my feet are barely touched, and others, I feel much deeper, with waves of emotion making me almost incapable of control. I cannot allow myself to get too deep, as i know I am a person prone to depression and guilt. Having my girls around from day to day really helps. I think the pain would be unimaginable if I had no other children. I know someday, I will walk higher on the beach, further away from the tide and better able to appreciate it.

I have to convince myself that I can be happy. That is what Phineas would want for me. And I should not feel guilty about it.

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A Changed Life

About a month ago, I thought about posting on here about how much my life had changed since I last posted. I was pregnant, we had moved cross country to Connecticut, Nate was working for a film company and we were just trying to get settled in a new place and getting ready for a new baby. If I only knew what would happen.

I can't help but think that, somehow, it was all meant to be. Why? I can't explain, but so many things lined up in such a way that we lost our child. It is so hard to say the words out loud. It is easier to type them, but only just. It has been nearly a month since our little Phineas was born.

It was going well. Things were progressing nicely with labor at home. Baby sounded great and I was almost completely dilated. My midwife encouraged me to get my water to break. After the rush of fluids came a foot and a cord. My whole life changed. What was meant to be peaceful and full of joy became a harrowing ride to the hospital trying to hold my baby in.

I knew from the look on my midwife's face that my baby was dying and I had no way to stop it. I was wheeled into the OR but they had me push since the baby was so far out anyway. Moments later he was born, barely alive. It was so quiet there in the room as they worked on him. I was in shock and freezing, my body shook uncontrollably. Fear gripped me and I just waited to hear one thing, the cries of my baby. But I never would.

He was stabilized but had suffered severe brain trauma due to being deprived of oxygen. They transferred him to another hospital to undergo cold cap treatment. It was his only hope. It would hopefully put off some of the brain damage and allow his brain to heal itself.

I left the hospital 9 hours after he was delivered and agonized over what would happen. The next days we kept vigil at the hospital, hoping for something to change. After his therapy was over, the prognosis was still very poor and we had doctor after doctor repeating it.

We knew the prognosis, but we still felt like there was a reason to hope. We went to church and attended the temple. We felt peace that all would be OK. I struggled with this a bit because we thought it meant that he would be made whole, that he would be healed. I felt his presence, I knew he was there with us. And then, I knew, finally I had peace that all of these promises would be ours, just not in the way we expected.

April 1st, just eight days after his birth, the sun came streaming in our bedroom as I woke up and I just knew. It would be OK. But, it was time for him to go. I could not keep him longer. We told the doctors that we were ready to do "withdrawal of care" the next day.

So on April second, Good Friday, we let him go. They removed the equipment and we held him as he passed, surrounded by family. It seems so strange that I felt more happiness and peace on the day that Phineas died than I did the day he was born. I feel like his life was sacred, that there are many reasons, most, likely unknown yet, why his life was so short.

I miss him so much now that sometimes my arms physically ache to hold him. Sometimes I just fall apart. People are often asking how I am doing. Mostly, I say that I am doing OK. And it sometimes true, other times, it is all I can say.

I think now how much life has changed, but then, how much the same it is. My life feels so different now, but looks nearly unchanged. I have to find a new normal now. One where my son is a presence and a memory, but not physically there.

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What you may want to watch... Maybe...

OK, so I am backlogged on an entire month+ of events that I will get to shortly. I just wanted to share some things I recommend viewing. Netflix is my best friend. It is cheap and I get to see tons of movies I wouldn't otherwise. I like movies, so this is a good thing for me, especially as we don't have TV.

On to the things you should see:

Number 1:


John Adams (The HBO miniseries)

Being that I love Revolutionary War and colonial history, I was very interested in seeing this. Admittedly, I didn't know as much as I thought I did about Adams. This was well written, well acted, everything you expect. It really left me wanting more. I actually was pretty sad when it was over. I had no more story to look forward to. It, of course, ends when he dies so there is not much left to show. Seriously though, I loved it. I have actually started reading the David McCullough book it was based on.


Number 2:


The Women

No, not the new one. I haven't seen it yet, but I can guess now that I probably won't like it. It didn't get great reviews, but I will give it a try. No, no, I am talking about the 1939 George Cukor classic. I watched it again recently and one of the tings that I really love about it is that, unusually for the time, there were no men in the film. At all. But there is a cast of wonderful female actors in their prime, Norma Shearer, Rosalind Russell, Joan Crawford, to, quite literally, name a few. It is a true comedy gem. Yes, there are some odd cultural things, but I think it has stood the test of time!


Number 3:


Bleak House (The Masterpiece miniseries)

I thought this was a pretty good adaptation of the Dickens novel. It is one of his lesser known works and it is different from his other works. The multiple story lines weaving in and out are intriguing and make for a rather suspenseful watch. Be careful of the many plot twists in the story. I love the portrayal of Esther. Spot on. You won't be disappointed!


Number 4:


Slumdog Millionaire

I think I may be the last person on Earth to see this film. I quite enjoyed the unique approach to the story. Heartbreaking and heartwarming all at once. What more could a girl ask for?


Number 5:


Not One Less

A Chinese film by the director of the haunting "Raise the Red Lantern." This film is decidedly more upbeat, but still there is a bit of heartrending sadness in it. A 13 year old girl is hired to substitute a class of younger children for a month. The teacher admonishes her that there should not be "one less" student when he returns. She struggles with her new role and when a boy leaves to work in the city in order to pay for his family debts, she goes after him and tries everything she can think of to get him back. A very subtle film with a happy ending.



As an aside, the lead actress, crazily enough, attended BYU-Hawaii.



Number 7:


Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day

This film was different than I had expected. Better, actually. I wouldn't consider it to be brilliant film making, but it was quite charming and a sweet little story about how two women unexpectedly change each others' lives over the course of a single day.


I think I may have forgotten something, but I think 7 is a good number to end at. I will be back soon. As long as I don't melt in this heat! Whew!

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It's Grandma!

When Cecily saw this picture, she said quite distinctly, "It's Grandma!"

Yes, in Hollywood, age doesn't seem to apply much anymore (at least in certain circumstances) and Sheryl Crow looks great and very happy as a new (ish) mom. And yet, I couldn't help thinking that Cecily was partially right. Crow, at age 45, adopted this sweet little boy. An age at which, well, she certainly could have been a grandmother.



This is also not to mention that my own mother had me when she was in her 40s. It is hard for me to imagine the energy it must have taken my mother to work full time as an administrator, while also being a mother to 6 kids (four of which were 6 and under). I have discovered, very distinctly, how much I am not like my mother. Heck, I am tired and stressed enough having only two. Despite being a "young (fun) mom" I feel run into the ground every day of the week. Age is not everything!

I think my mom must have felt, from time to time, how different her situation was. Imagine the time I came home from school and told her that she was the same age as many of my classmates' grandparents. I bet she felt good about that, right?

Things have changed a bit. The average age of a first time mom has gone up. Even among our LDS circle, I am the youngest mom (at least comparing mothers of 2 and 3 year olds). Even still, it doesn't feel too strange. I am not too far off. Plus many people are having kids well into their 40s. There is no longer a "set" age for these stages of life. They very so greatly.

Maybe by my 40s I will be a grandmother, and I will probably look it according to Cecily's standards, but being a mother to a toddler? Probably not, I don't have that much energy.




PS: I think my mother has always looked younger than her years. The comparison to Sheryl Crow certainly agrees with what I have always thought.

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