Positively February: Day 11

"On particularly rough days when I'm sure I can't possibly endure, I like to remind myself that my track record for getting through bad days so far is 100% and that's pretty good." - Unknown

Over the past month or so, I've saved dozens of positive quotes, but this morning, none of them felt right.  While on the train, I browsed more quotes.  Quotes about healing, about life, about grief, about moving forward.  It wasn't until I stumbled upon this one, that I just knew it was the right one.

I've mentioned it before, I strongly believe that all bereaved parents are survivors, whether they see it or not.  Whether they feel it.  After all, there's a name for everything else - if you lose your spouse, you are a widow or widower.  If you lose your parents you are an orphan.  There is no word for parents who lose their child.  And so, I present to you - survivor.  That's what we are.

I am still standing.

The rough days happen.  Sometimes you expect them because of whatever day it is.  I'm not particularly looking forward to Friday the 13th.  I am not really superstitious, but I don't like the 13th anymore.  My son died on March 13th.  And this year, it's on a Friday.  And the month before getting to that dreadful date, also a Friday.  It's like the universe is rubbing salt into my still very fresh wounds.  Regardless, the tough days occur.  Whether because of "special" date.  Or because it snowed, or didn't snow.  Or perhaps because you saw something that triggered a memory, good or bad.

I am still standing.

I suffered a lot through all the flare ups caused by Crohn's.  Because of the bowel obstructions.  Due to operations and the recovery it entails.  Through the thousands of needle pricks, which I will continue to receive for the rest of my life.  As much as I wish it wouldn't happen again, a chronic illness is just that, chronic.  The odds of it returning, are high.  Bring it!

I am still standing.

My son passed away.  My sweet, sweet little boy of 16 weeks.  Prior to that, I miscarried.  That I know of, I know for sure once, though I suspect it is more.  A few days away will mark the 3 year mark of the loss of baby H.  I should have a child of 2 and a half and of 14 months.  Instead, I have angels in Heaven.

I am still standing.

I survive.  It's not by choice.  It's by necessity.  It's not to be brave and courageous.  It's to honor the precious life that we do have.  It's to honor the life that our babies whose lives were cut way too short.  It's not to save face, because really after what we, bereaved parents, have gone through, saving face is the last thing on our mind.  It's about finding a new purpose and thriving off of that in order to find new meaning to our lives.

We are still standing.  A community of survivors.  Hand in hand, we continue to walk this journey together.  With all that we've already survived, even if it is difficult to believe, we will continue to withstand the pain and the adversities life has in store for us.  I pray that none include the loss of more babies.  I pray with all my heart.

When the going gets tough, take a deep, deep breath.  And remember your track record for surviving.  It is 100%.

Nom nom nom...

Nom nom nom - my version of yummy.  I don't remember if I started using the expression because it's something Brett uses.  Or if it's something I picked up while playing World of Warcraft.  Or perhaps when reading a Manga.  Wherever I picked it up from though, it stuck.  When I would feed Preston, I would say it to him a lot, when he needed to eat just a little more.  Did it work?  Who really knows, but I figured the easy repetitive sound might be helpful to him.  I hoped that by association, nom nom nom would trigger him to know food was coming, and that he was hungry.

We're so blessed to be able to eat as much as we want, when we want, and to a certain extent, what we want.  On day 4 of my 30 days of gratitude challenge, I am thankful for food.  I like to eat.  Actually I love to eat.  I would eat all day if I could, but I know better, lol.  It's so easy to take food for granted.  Yet, there are so many people that go without it every day.  In impoverished countries, and even in first world countries like Canada and the US.  So many children are malnourished and it's heart-breaking.  It's one thing to be an adult, where there are certain things you can do to try and help yourself.  It's another to be an innocent child with no knowledge or resources to find food.

I often find myself saying "I'm starving".  It's a poor expression we've come to adopt, and I aim to use it less in the future.  I've actually felt a form of starvation on more than one occasion.  When I was hospitalized for bowel obstructions, I wasn't allowed to eat for 7-10 days.  Granted I was on fluids to keep me hydrated, and on narcotics to numb the pain but once I was off the pain meds, the hunger pain could be felt.  It was nothing like when I'm hungry for dinner, because I'm eating an hour later than usual.  I can only imagine what it would be like to live with this feeling every day.

I don't want to go through life feeling guilty for enjoying a really cheesy pizza, or delicious beef tacos, or even a decadent chocolate cake.  I often have to restrict my diet because of a Crohn's flare-up.  I went a decade without eating salads which ironically are great for you.  I had to limit the amount of vegetables I ate, especially those with insoluble fiber for a long time.  I'm still careful with them.  I've had to go without most dairy foods for months at a time.  Ice cream is a rare treat for me.  All this gives me a greater appreciation for the food that we eat every day.  It makes me feel good that Preston never had to wonder when he would eat next.  We provided for him to the best of our ability.  I can only hope that the number of children who suffer from starvation only diminishes from here.

As you know, I'm hoping that November 19th, Preston's birthday, will be a day where everyone spreads happiness around the world.  My plan all along has been to make it a weekly event for myself.  I was planning on making a lunch and handing it to a few of the homeless people that I see every day on my way to work.,  The hope? Brightening their day, and filling their bellies.  But perhaps a better option would be to find a way to give food to children who need it.  Research project for the long weekend!

There are so many delicious things to eat.  Some of my favorites: juicy roast beef, pizza, Caesar salad, homemade burritos... and as fall approaches, I look forward to making my French Canadian Meatpie.  Nom nom nom...

That was for New Year's 2013 - That's what it says on the pie though it's hard to read.

Slow healing wounds & patience

For as long as I can remember I've healed slowly.  Mosquito bites seem to stay forever.  When I catch a cold, I can't shake it for several weeks.  I "bruise like a peach", to quote Joey on Friends referring to Ross.  And when I get a bruise, I seem to stay bruised forever.  I've been this way for a long time.  I've read several articles that seem to link slow healing with auto-immune diseases like Crohn's.  Additionally, I feel like Remicade is adding another layer to delaying my healing powers.  You see, the way Crohn's works is that my immune system will attack good cells instead of just sick cells (like infected mosquito bites cells or common cold cells).  Remicade causes my immune system to stop attacking healthy cells, but at the same time, it stops attacking the sick cells too.  This is especially true in the first couple weeks following my treatments, which are currently every seven weeks.

I feel like I've grown to be a very patient person.  In part due to waiting for days to feel well enough to accomplish more than just the necessary tasks to get through each day.  In part due to waiting days, weeks, months to not feel abdominal pain.  In part due to living without my husband for almost a year before being able to move to the States.  And many other instances, but I think those are the most defining things that have led to considering myself to be patient.

The healing process that comes with losing a child is a very slow one.  It requires patience.  Patience to get used to the new reality.  Patience to allow certain feelings to subside: guilt, anger, sadness, numbness, devastation, to name a few.  Patience to understand that these feelings may suddenly re-emerge months, years later.  Patience to deal with others, who don't quite know how to react, who don't know what to say.  Patience with regaining certain feelings: joy, fulfillment, enjoyment, peace.  Patience to deal with others who are also mourning your loss.  Patience with others because they are able to return to their lives as if nothing ever happened.

I may not have lost Preston years ago, but I did have at least one miscarriage.  I think I had at least another one but I'll never really know since I was in the hospital with a bowel obstruction when it happened.  I was on so many drugs that I don't recalling asking them to take a pregnancy test, and while they drew blood every day, no one ever mentioned anything to me.  Perhaps they didn't want to add to my existing pain?  Or perhaps I wasn't pregnant after all.  My miscarriage and the loss of Preston, I feel have been two terribly different experiences for me.  Having a miscarriage was devastating, don't get me wrong.  It took time to get in a better place, but I think finding out a couple months later that I was as ill as I was, softened the blow.  I would have been 5 months pregnant when I had my first obstruction.  And then close to giving birth when I had my second one.  I was not a healthy person during the 4 months interval between both obstructions.  My GI always says, healthy mom = healthy baby.  I don't think our little peanut would have been healthy and I would have felt terribly guilty if that was the case.  So, once I had these reasons, it made it easier for me to heal.  I still wonder what could have been, but sadly, I don't think of this baby as much as I think about Preston.  I hope that doesn't make me a bad mama.  I would have loved this baby as much as I loved Preston.  With Preston, I fear we will never have a reason, which will cause us to always try to find a reason.  That itself, will most likely slow down the already slow process of healing after losing our son.

Preston's been gone for almost 5 months now.  It feels like an eternity.  It feels like yesterday.  Time stopped that fateful day and I wonder if it will ever start again.  I do feel like I am healing.  This blog has had a lot to do with it.  But as all my other wounds, it is a slow process.  I thank everyone who continues to have the patience to ride along with me every day.  It truly makes a difference, and I want you to know that.