You've got Mail

I now have a love-hate relationship with both my mailbox and my inbox.

After Oliver died there were sympathy cards in the mailbox EVERY day for over a month. At times the cards were comforting and at times they were like a slap in the face, a constant reminder.

Because I signed up for every sample, free offer, coupons and email newsletter I could find when I was pregnant I still have an abundance of samples and coupons arriving in the mail to feed the baby I don't have. I also have a steady stream of emails with coupons and articles filled with advice on how to handle the baby I don't have. Every time I get a sample in the mail I cry and every time I see an email I can feel the lump in my throat grow larger. But, for some reason I have never unsubscribed to any of the many email and mail services that send torture in the mail. On some level I find comfort in these reminders...perhaps it is about having the opportunity to hold something in my hands that should have been used for Oliver.

Today when I went to my mailbox there was a letter from my church announcing their memorial service this Sunday for all parishioners who passed away this year. A candle will be lit for Oliver and if I attend the service than I will get to light the candle. Receiving this letter today was hard. I felt my grief weigh heavier on my shoulders but I also felt a bit of relief in my heart for the chance to be a little closer to him this Sunday. To light a candle in his name and to celebrate him.

Before I started writing tonight's post I received an email in my inbox that said "Your Baby should be 5 months and two weeks old today!" I felt a little angry and then sad and then I opened it and devoured every word. Sometimes we find comfort in the strangest places.

Who am I?

For the past seven months I keep waiting to feel like myself again. Waiting to wake up one morning and feel like the old Kristy. It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I realized that I will never be that Kristy again. That person died with Oliver.

My goal now is to be content in my own skin, to rediscover the parts of me that are still there and to figure out who I am now. It has been such a confusing time. For months I have searched and searched for something to fill the void in my life. I have applied for countless jobs, started school, started seeing a counsellor, started selling Pampered Chef, started signing up for things. I have been searching for things to occupy my mind to keep it busy so there is less time to focus on my sadness less time to be consumed with my anxiety.

It is most likely a blessing that I didn't get any of the full-time hard core corporate communications positions I applied for. I don't think I could have handled full-time work on top of everything else. Now I am working part-time, going to school, taking care of Seija, doing the books for my husband's business, selling Pampered Chef and running the household all the while attempting to answer the question, who am I now?

WTF

Now that is a good title to sum up the last seven months. W.T.F. As in...wtf happened...as in whytf did it happen...as in wtf is my little boy doing in a box in my living room instead of sleeping in my arms right now...as in WTF do you think is wrong - my son died.

I know it has been seven months and I know that you must go on with life, as I have done, but it does bother me that people close to me ask what is wrong when I'm sad. Even my husband. Does it not cross their minds that I'm still grieving or does it but they don't want to bring it up? I don't know the answer to that. I have told a few friends about my anxiety issues and some understand but a couple of them are bewildered to the cause, as if it doesn't even cross their minds that it is because I lost my son or because I nearly died myself. Of course I realize that everyone has their own things going on and maybe it is selfish of me to think this way but oh well.

It also bothers me that no one mentions his name. Ever. As though he didn't even exist. Maybe they don't want to upset me but for goodness sakes say his name! Also with many (not all) of my nearest and dearest I can feel their level of discomfort rise the moment I mention Oliver. Their body language changes, their eyes start shifting, they fingers begin fidgeting and I can tell they wish they were anywhere doing anything other than having this conversation. Not that I blame them really, I get it. I wish I didn't have to have this conversation either.

The results are in

AND...It's NOT a tumor! I'm surprised, relieved and elated to learn this. I still have my doubts although I have told my husband that I will accept the results as FACTS. One thing to say out loud and quite another to convince myself of.

I must say that the news has given me a new lease on life. I have stopped to smell the roses, to appreciate the little things in life and the big. After spending a couple of months just trying to get through the minutes it is a relief to smile again, to laugh with my daughter, to enjoy things.

Waiting For the Phone to Ring

This seems to be the theme of the last few months of my life. A few months ago I was waiting to hear from a multitude of employers, certain that each was going to end up in my dream job...I didn't get any of them.

Now, I sit waiting for the phone to ring, to hear from the doctor, certain that he will bear bad news about my test results..but hoping desperately that he won't.

You see, I really, honestly think that there is something seriously wrong with me, namely a brain tumor OR MS. I have come to this conclusion based on symptoms that have been plaguing me for the last five weeks, namely a tingly numbness in ALL of my arms and legs as well as a strange pressure in my head. These symptoms NEVER go away, they exist 24/7 and worsen when I go to bed at night, making sleep difficult.

My doctor does not seem as concerned as I am. He seems to think that it is all part of a new anxiety disorder I have developed since losing Oliver. I have such a hard time believing that what is going on in my body is not a physical thing.

But if I'm being honest, I must admit that I have been consumed with the idea that I'm going to die. Before the tingling and numbness started I was seeing the doctor for a lump in my throat, convinced I had throat cancer, only to discover I have a condition caused by stress and anxiety that causes muscles in your throat to react resulting in the person feeling like there is a huge lump in their throat, choking them and making it difficult to swallow. It should go away by itself. In time.

And, I have become a bit of a hypochondriac...constantly convinced I am dying for a variety of reasons including (but not limited to): heart attack, stroke, cancers, MS and lung disease.

I don't always feel anxious, yet I always feel the symptoms which makes it harder for me to believe this is all anxiety. I do feel anxious often though and although I haven't had a full blown panic attack in a few months I do have accelerations once in awhile and fleeting chest pains.

I hope it is all in my head, but I'm so effing scared right now that it's not. Every time the phone rings, I jump and my heart starts pounding. If they call and tell me to come in for a talk, I will probably die on the spot.

Stay tuned!

Oliver's Story - Part Two

So, it's Tuesday night and Juha and I are hanging out in our hospital room watching the tiny television. We have a room with two beds and Juha was permitted to stay with me the entire time instead of having to get a hotel room. The nurses tell us that the NICU at home is going to open up on Friday and we'll get to go home. We were so excited about being back with our family. The nurse came in to monitor the heart beat and found it easily. Oliver's heart was beating faster than normal...but no one seemed concerned.

The next day was the worst day of my life.

I woke up and didn't feel very well. I had a bad feeling. I was anxious for the nurses to put the monitor on me but it took a couple of hours after waking before they did. Juha was out of the room when they came in and searched for the heartbeat. When they didn't find it they said Oliver was probably hiding and they would send me down for an ultrasound. I was so damn scared at that moment. Juha came back and we were quickly wheeled down for an ultrasound.

I will never forget the woman's face as she scanned my belly for signs of life. I kept asking her "do you see the heartbeat" and she replied, "We'll have to ask the doctor about that." I knew in that moment that our little boy was gone. We were brought back to our room and left alone for a few minutes before a nurse came in to break the news to us. Our world collapsed then. I could feel my heart breaking as we held eachother sobbing. I'm sure an animal like sound escaped my lips, I certainly screamed in my head.

That day is a blur in my mind of calling our families, doctors, nurses and chaplins coming in to offer words of comfort. Must say at that point they fell on deaf ears. I felt the beginnings of labour within a few hours and several hours later I was once again strapped to the plywood to begin the journey home so I could give birth in Thunder Bay. No nightmare I've ever had can hold a candle to that experience. It took three and a half hours from hospital to hospital (ambulance, air, ambulance) I had contractions every five minutes the entire time and my fever had begun but it was nothing compared to my heart.

I was pretty sick by the time we were back in Thunder Bay. I will not go into my hellish labour except to say it lasted for hours, my fever was up past 105 degrees and yes, I did have an epidural. I came pretty close to death myself that night.

When Oliver was finally born - he was beautiful. He was 4.5 pounds and perfect from head to toe. He died because I developed an ecoli infection that killed him and nearly killed me too. He was healthy, he was a fighter but unfortunately he had no chance against the infection.

So many women in the same situation don't have answers for why their babies were taken from them. I do, but unfortunately I don't find much comfort in that fact. It has left me with guilt, as unrational as it may be, I feel guilt that my body killed him. And of course I have so many what-ifs. What if they had never stopped labour the first time? What if they had let Ollie be born premature? What if I had demanded that they allowed the labour to continue? What if Ollie could have been born before the infection settled in my body. Would I have a tiny little boy in my arms right now? Of course we will never know.

I do know that I was lucky enough to hold an angel that morning. An Angel from heaven sent to me for a brief whisper of a time before he was called back to God.

Oliver's Story

Before I begin to talk about where I am now I must first begin by telling the story of how we got here, a.k.a. Oliver's story.

Because it is my blog and there is no one to stop me, I can start at the very beginning, which in this case would be conception. Okay, I won't get into the details but I would like to say that Oliver was very much planned and very much wanted. My husband (Juha) and I had decided that we really, really wanted a new addition to our little family. It was the summer of 2008 and at the time we were both working CRAZY schedules and doing a lot of traveling. We were both on separate business trips but decided to meet up at a Toronto hotel for a little rendezvous to mark the beginning of our "trying for a baby" phase. The next day we were both a bit scared and thought we should perhaps slow it down and wait a bit for life to slow down before we got pregnant again. But that one night was all it took, we were already pregnant an we were THRILLED about it.

When I was pregnant with Oliver I quit my job. At the time I was the Acting Director of a busy communications department within a large organization. It was a very demanding role that required a lot of overtime and way too much travel. AS I mentioned the summer of '08 was a crazy one. Juha and I were passing each other in the night and our beautiful little daughter was getting carted around from one wonderful friend or family member to another. I felt like I was missing out on her early years and that was very upsetting. Juha and I decided that only one of us could continue working 60+ hours a week and I walked away from the business world and jumped head first into the world of a full-time mom.

My pregnancy was perfect. A little morning sickness at the beginning and a little fatigue but was overall a walk in the park. Up until my 30th week, of course.

I was just over 29 weeks when it all started. My beautiful daughter Seija was spending the night with my parents and Juha and I were watching a movie. I wasn't feeling great, but didn't think much of it. I went for one of my many trips to the bathroom which revealed a bit of spotting. It scared the shit out of me. I've heard of spotting in the early days but not 29 weeks in. I laid back down and tried resting but a few minutes later the bleeding was worse and we headed to the hospital. I got dressed quickly but as I put on my jeans it never occurred to me that my life had changed forever.

Within moments of walking into the hospital we were wisked down to labour and delivery. After a series of tests the doctors decided that baby and I were fine and that we could go home the next day, as long as ultrasound was fine. I was going to be on bedrest, which at the time sounded horrible but now in retrospect would have been a cakewalk in comparison. They gave me steroid shots to ensure that if baby was born early, his lungs would be strong enough to survive. The next day we had an ultrasound and they said the baby was perfect - it was also revealed that he was in fact a boy. I remember the elevator ride back down to the floor - so clearly when I told Juha that we were in deed having a son. I remember the look on his face, the tears in his eyes, the tremble in his voice when he repeated, "We're having a son, I'm having a son, a son!"

LAter that afternoon they moved me to the maternity floor in a ward room with three moms and their babies. I was going to stay there under observation until I could see the doctor again. The thought was that I would be discharged soon. Juha left to get some work done and my sister came to visit. While Pam was there I was getting freaked out - I felt like I was bleeding more instead of less. Turned out my water had broke. Within one hour everything had changed again. I was wisked back to labour and delivery and had a team of interns telling me that I would not be going home, that I was in labour and they were going to stop it and then I would be admitted until Oliver was born. The kicker announcement was that the NICU was closed and that I would be flown somewhere else, as soon as possible. Unfortunately Juha was gone for this little speech. My sister called him to come back, he was already parking the truck at that point. He must have been scared, knowing something was wrong but not knowing what. I couldn't stop crying...my poor sister didn't know what to say and was probably freaked righ out. But she held my hand, cried with me and reassured me in her calm, comforting and strong manner. I'm very lucky to have her in my life.

SO...the word came in that we would be shipped to Sudbury but then they said that Juha might not be able to come. Which was an awful thought. We had to wait for the air ambulance to get there so that they could tell us if weight restrictions would allow for Juha to come or not. We waited hours and hours before they got to the hospital after one in the morning and told us Juha could come. Thank God. I mean it, thanks to you God. I don't know how I would have survived any of this if it wasn't for my rock - my husband.

I was strapped to a gurney (generous word for plywood covered by a couple of inches of padding) and driven by ambulance to the airport where a small air ambulance waited for us. I was damn scared during all of this. The flight was uncomfortable and I was so exhausted but sleep would not come. I just remember looking out the window wondering how the f*ck we had gotten here. An air ambulance helicpoter waited for us at the Sudbury airport and took us straight to the hospital. By now it was well after 4:30 in the morning. I was wheeled down to a room in L&D where five nurses swooped down at me to monitor and care for me. They set up a bed for Juha who fell asleep within minutes after our 30 hour bad dream. I fell asleep after hearing that labour had stalled and Oliver looked fine.

We spent the next four days in the Sudbury hospital. We had another ultrasound the morning after we arrived and everything looked great. The chaplin visited us and a pediatrician came and talked to us about what we could expect with a premature baby. The goal was to get me to 34 weeks, at which point Oliver would have the best chance of being healthy. But after the doctor left I felt completely confident that even if Oliver was born that day, he would be fine, just little. I felt so good after that, this was just a bump in the road it was not the end. My job was to keep him in as long as possible. I made Juha buy me a notebook and I wrote down every date until the 34 week mark. Each evening I would happily cross off another day and I was THRILLED when I hit 30 weeks a couple of days later. I was making tons of lists of everything that needed to be done at home that we didn't get the chance for before we left. The atmosphere changed - we weren't that worried anymore. I had moments of course, but we were okay. The nurses seemed to share our disposition as the constant monitoring slowed. They started only monitoring twice a day at morning and night.

That's good for now. Stay tuned for part two.