tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86005895984831655322024-03-08T03:11:32.624-08:00My Healing HeartKristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-30125792549431083212010-08-08T12:40:00.000-07:002010-08-08T14:31:48.886-07:00Oskar's progressOur baby boy is two weeks old today. He is doing so well! As I mentioned previously he has never needed assistance breathing which is amazing. He was having difficulty digesting my breastmilk as his system is just too immature. As a result, he had to have his feedings decreased and was put on lipids (fat) and a TCP solution both of which were administrated by IV for the purpose of adding calories. The first and second IVs where in his little arms and the third was placed in his head. I had been warned of the possibility as his veins are just so tiny and fragile but it didn't make it any easier to see my baby with tubes in his head. There was also a few day period when they suspected he was lactose intolerant and contemplated switching him from my milk to soy. And, after birth our little one dropped from 1530 grams to 1365 which was pretty scary.<div><br /></div><div>I am happy to report that Oskar started digesting his milk like a pro. He stopped having residuals (milk left in his tummy at next feeding) and is now on full feeds which means NO MORE IV!! I was thrilled to see that go. He is now receiving 35ml every three hours which probably does not seem like much to a parent of a newborn but for Oskar it is perfect - the exact calorie amount necessary to help him grow at his current weight. Which is 1595 grams (3 pounds 8 ounces) as of last night. He has also had a brain ultrasound and an eye test both of which came back perfect.</div><div><br /></div><div>This afternoon Juha, Seija and I gave Oskar his first bath! He was such a little trooper and only cried for a moment even though it must have been so cold for him. It was wonderful to care for him in such a normal way. I promise to post pictures soon.</div><div><br /></div><div>I visit Oskar twice a day. For about 2.5 hours in the day time during which I practice kangaroo care with him (hold him upright skin to skin) for up to 2 hours and then again around 8 at night when I hold him for about an hour and stay with him for about 2 hours. As he gets bigger this will increase and within the next couple of weeks I will be able to attempt nursing with him. He still has a long way to go, of course, but I couldn't be happier with his progress. He is such a little fighter. Every day he is more alert, awake for longer periods of time, his little eyes looking at me and his little fingers holding tightly to mine. It amazes me the amount of love I feel for this tiny little human. He is our miracle baby and has stolen our hearts.</div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-76408603921856521872010-08-07T20:11:00.000-07:002010-08-07T21:22:40.310-07:00Oskar and OliverMore than once I have called (or referred to) Oskar as Oliver. The simple reasons for this are because their names are similar, as in they both start with 'O' and also because Oskar looks exactly like Oliver did. The deeper reason is that some part of me truly believes that Oskar is both himself and Oliver. For the record I know exactly how crazy that sounds but that is how I feel in my heart of hearts.<div><br /></div><div>After Oskar was born I was talking to one of my OB's about WHY this happened. How could I have such a normal, uneventful 42 week pregnancy with Seija and then have my water break at 30 weeks with Oliver and have him pass away before he was even born and then have that be followed by my pregnancy with Oskar where I bled continuously for 10 weeks before my water broke again, this time at 31 weeks. Why can my body no longer handle carrying babies? WHY WHY WHY. </div><div><br /></div><div>The consensus of the OB's on duty for the duration of my hospital stay is that my c-section with Seija was botched. Apparently during the section my cervix and my uterus were cut and never repaired. That combined with significant scar tissue has resulted in a faulty uterus which can no longer support baby once he gets to a certain size. </div><div><br /></div><div>Juha was angry to hear this. Angry that most of the above is written in my file after Seija's birth yet no one ever told me. Angry that the doctor made such an error that later resulted in the death of our baby. But, I have no anger. I am relieved to have an explanation. And I know that if we would have been told this after Seija's birth we would have never tried to get pregnant again. It would have been irresponsible and negligent for us to try for another baby if we knew we could never make it to term and that we could possibly lose a baby. Therefore, if we knew I would have never had the chance to carry Oliver and I wouldn't have my precious miracle Oskar.</div><div><br /></div><div>Both of my boys are blessings. I am grateful to God that Oskar is here and I believe that my Oliver is watching over us. But I also believe that parts of Ollie will live forever in my little baby Oskar. </div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-56777141364223386182010-08-06T20:43:00.000-07:002010-08-06T21:35:49.876-07:00Baby OskarA lot has happened since my last post - the most noteworthy event being the birth of our son Oskar Juha. It's going to take a few posts to catch up on everything but I will start tonight with Oskar's birth story.<br /><br />Four days after my last post I was admitted to the hospital following a really big bleed. I knew when I left for the hospital that I wouldn't be returning home. I spent two days being monitored in Labour and Delivery as I was contracting and bleeding. I was then moved to the maternal floor and was told that I would remain there on bedrest until Oskar was born. I continued to bleed and have sporadic contractions but was hopeful I could make it for a couple of more weeks. Bedrest sucked as did being away from Seija but I was doing all I could for Oskar and I was happy with that.<br /><br />A week after I was admitted my water broke. I was devastated by this. During the eight weeks I was on bedrest, in Winnipeg and hospitalized I comforted myself with the fact that it wasn't the same thing as what happened with Oliver. But, as soon as my water broke it was like I was reliving my nightmare. I was quickly moved to Labour and Delivery and was monitored 24/7. They put me on antibiotics, gave me the sterroids for Oskar's lungs and said they wanted to wait at least 48 hours to allow the medication to work. I spent that 48 hours awake and watching the monitors, feeling as though I was waiting for his heart to stop beating.<br /><br />When Sunday dawned I knew it was time for him to be born. I felt like my body was telling me to get him out, that he was no longer safe inside me. His heart still looked good on the monitor and the Dr. wanted to try for a few more days. I told him that I felt that was the wrong decision. He sent me for my 28th ultrasound and baby was no longer doing well, not moving anymore and within 30 minutes we were in the OR.<br /><br />We were told that they may have to rush Oskar out of the room, that he may not cry and that we may not get to see him until much later. But, he cried!! It wasn't a loud cry but it was a cry. He also peed on my doctor and was pink and feisty. They showed him to us before they took him back to the NICU.<br /><br />I will update later on Oskar's progress but I will tell you that he is doing well. He needed help breathing for two minutes and has been breathing on his own since. He is perfect and healthy but oh so tiny. Oskar was born on July 25 at 3:10 p.m. and weighed 3.5 pounds. <br /><br />I know it is crazy to be happy to have a premature baby but I must say that given everything that has happened over the last two months I am positively thrilled that my baby boy is here on the outside being cared for by the best. I am sad that my body failed him but know I am blessed that he is here, he is alive and one day I will bring him home.Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-75250118162661657312010-07-12T17:05:00.000-07:002010-07-12T17:16:21.694-07:00Home Again...For NowI am thrilled to be back with my family. I had two entire weeks without bleeds and was given the OK to travel home last Tuesday. I've been home for six days and have been back to the hospital twice with two bleeds. Baby is looking great and my health seems fine so we will continue on like this (stay at home on bedrest and go into hospital for monitoring after each bleed) until the bleeds get worse. Their best guess right now is that the small tear behind my placenta is bleeding more frequently because baby boy is using it as his own punching bag. Silly boy. <div><br /></div><div>It seems inevitable that I will be hospitalized at some point so I'm trying to enjoy my time at home as much as possible. It is SO SO wonderful to be home with Seija. She is such an amazing little girl and she is constantly entertaining me and blowing me away with the things that she says. She seems to have understand, as much as a 3 year-old can that I need to rest and that I cannot walk or do things outside with her. We do crafts together and play games and read stories and I can tell that she is so happy to have her family back together. She has asked if I can get a babysitter to watch her baby brother in my belly so that I can take her shopping and swimming. If only it worked like that, little one.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am still struggling to stay positive. Some days I just want to cry because I feel left out of the fun with Seija. But I try to stay strong enough to be less selfish as I know I am doing the best I can for this baby and he deserves everything I can do for him. </div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-74476180365924668702010-07-01T09:45:00.000-07:002010-07-01T10:13:53.848-07:00Why Me? Why not.I believe it is human nature to ask questions such as "Why me?" when we are faced with tragedy and/or challenges in our lives. I have certainly asked this many times: I asked that question when I found out that Oliver's heart no longer beat inside my womb. I asked that question when I found myself at my son's memorial service. And I have asked myself that question several times over the last few weeks as I faced complications in my pregnancy.<div><br /></div><div>Sometimes we look for a reason why these things happen to us on a philosophical level (is God testing my strength or my my faith, is it karma, do I deserve this) but I think that's bullshit. Obviously no one deserves such heartbreak. The best answer I have been able to come up with is why the hell not. No one is discriminated against when it comes to tragedy, heartbreak and challenges. That's just life. So now, I'm trying to focus my energy on the power of positive thinking, on being strong enough to get through these moments in life instead of focusing on the why part. I finally realize that the why part is irrelevant and a waste of energy, it doesn't change anything and instead adds negative energy to the healing process.</div><div><br /></div><div>Four weeks ago when I was 24 weeks pregnant I hemorrhaged. We rushed to the hospital where the oncall OB did an exam and told me it was her "clinical opinion" even though she couldn't prove it, that my waters had broke. In that moment I was transported back in time to March 2009 when we learned the same thing about my pregnancy with Oliver, and we all know how that turned out. So, obviously we were terrified and upset. The doctor then continued to say that at 24 weeks the baby had little to no chance at life and it was the opinion of the head of the neonatal pediatrics that we do nothing to save him. (i.e. no transfer to a hospital that can actually help 24 weekers and no resuscitation) So then of course we were devastated. I couldn't believe it was happening all over again. </div><div><br /></div><div>To make a long story as short as possible - everything is okay. After the OB scared the shit out of us the neonatal doc came in and told us our son had every chance of survivial if we transfered out to a 3+ hospital. We were transfered to Winnipeg where we were immediately told my water did NOT break. I have been here in Winnipeg ever since. Almost four weeks now. I have had a total of 3 hemorrhages. I have what they are calling a chronic abruption which means a small tear in my placenta which continues to tear. I am on strict bedrest and now that I will be 28 weeks tomorrow I can go back home in a week or so. I will be on bedrest for the duration and I will most likely be in and out of the hospital, and probably won't make it full term BUT baby is okay, my water did not break and this is NOT the same as last time. (Enter the power of positive thinking).</div><div><br /></div><div>I look forward to returning home to my family. Aside from the fear the worst part has been being separated from my daughter and husband. I know I won't be able to do much for her once I get home but at least I can see her smile and hear her laugh - which is the best medicine there is. And when I do get home you can be sure my energy will be focused on prayer and strength and not feeling sorry for myself or concentrating on the why.</div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-33575892806550305912010-04-21T18:51:00.000-07:002010-04-21T19:10:06.522-07:00Children of the WorldSo, I'm sitting here watching Idol Gives back and the tears are falling down my face. It breaks my heart, (I literally feel chest pain) when I watch snippets like this, shots of children dying from Aids and starvation, watching children living in poverty, children who are victims of abuse, children who are sick, parentless children. Ever since I had my daughter my heart aches more to think of these children, millions of children across the world MILLIONS, suffering. I wish I could help them all but yet I feel helpless. Sure I can donate some money and I do but it doesn't feel like enough. I have a need deep inside to make a difference in a child's life, (other than my old children - I take it as a given that I will make a difference in their lives). <div><br /></div><div>I started the process to become a big sister and it is a start towards this goal. I often tell Juha that if lightening strikes twice for us, if this baby is taken away from me too then we will need to adopt a child, give a home to a child who really really needs one. Maybe this is something we can do anyways, in the future. But I think I have a lot of work to do on the husband first. :-)</div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-66207509983354787922010-04-13T18:31:00.000-07:002010-04-13T18:53:22.977-07:00No time for dwellingIt has been a busy week and a half. I usually enjoy busy because for me it means no time for dwelling on my anxiety or grief. But this week was a bit much. I am happy to report that I have now finished my work contract, I have studied my butt of and written my exams, packed and organized a bit of the house, decorated a playroom for Seija at the new house and threw two parties for my daughter to celebrate her third birthday. I am not happy to report that my poor little girl suffered a horrible bladder infection during the midst of her birthday celebrations.<div><br /></div><div>It is so hard to see your kiddies sick. It started on Friday night and I thought she was getting better on Saturday (her birthday) but it came to a head on Sunday, the day of her parties. Poor thing was peeing every 2-5 minutes at her kiddie party and then I noticed there were tiny little blood clots in her urine when we got home and I freaked. Off to ER with us for hours and hours. She was such a trooper. Doctor said her infection levels were as high as they can possibly measure. She is on antibiotics now and should feel better soon. She says she is already better but I'm pretty sure she is just saying that because she doesn't like the taste of her medicine. </div><div><br /></div><div>We have to take her for an ultrasound on Thursday to ensure there is nothing seriously wrong with her bladder. Doctor says it is regulation now for any child under 5 who has more than 1 UTI infection. Seija had one about 6 months ago. I am of course praying that there is nothing seriously wrong with her bladder or urinary track. I am grateful that doctors are following up but I'm scared a little too. Guess we will find out. </div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-45918615569281493052010-03-26T17:33:00.000-07:002010-03-26T17:59:51.389-07:00Hello out thereWhen I first started this blogging journey I shared the address with no one. I had no desire to be read by others, especially those close to me because I thought that would make me feel censored, trapped to write others might expect of me instead of what was in my heart and mind. I also thought I might hide some of my feelings if I knew my nearest and dearest were reading. I wanted the blog to be my journal, as I am way too lazy to start writing journal entries with a pen and paper - who has time for that? <div><br /></div><div>Anyways, a few weeks after its inception I shared my blog address with a few other baby loss mamas. It is therapeutic, the process of sharing blogs with women who have gone through similar losses, women who can understand exactly what I'm feeling. More baby loss mamas found my blog and my readers increased. I then decided to share the address with moms on my online birthclub and I started receiving positive messages from these women who made me feel good about my blog, and gave me the courage to put the address on my Facebook profile. I don't advertise it, you only see it if you go to my personal information page and I never told any of my friends that I had a blog or that the address was there. But sure enough people started finding it. Now my blog has been read by over 200 people including a few of my closest friends. </div><div><br /></div><div>I always thought I would feel nervous or stifled if people I knew were reading my most inner thoughts about losing my son, but I don't. No one has to read it if they don't want to. No one has to look at the photos of my angel if they feel uncomfortable doing so. I offer no apology for my thoughts and feelings. But I would like to thank you - all of you from my closest friends to my acquaintances to the women I have never met for reading my words and giving me the courage to to talk about my son, for empowering me to reach out and share my journey of grief and healing. God Bless You. </div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-79508547964227901752010-03-24T19:10:00.000-07:002010-03-24T19:46:12.247-07:00Sigh of relief...Thrilled to report that today's ultrasound revealed a healthy bouncing baby complete with waving arm buds and a perfect heart beat. My next OB appointment isn't for four weeks so I'm going to do my best to breathe deeply over the next month and attempt not to over analyze every twinge.<div><br /></div><div>I'm hoping it will be relatively easy considering our life is full of pleasant distractions at the moment. We take over our new home on Friday and I am prepared to lose my husband to the world of renovations for six weeks as he takes our vision and creates our dream home. Our current house is on the market now. It is annoying to be kicked out of our home constantly so that people can view it and even more annoying to keep it immaculate all the time, so hopefully it sells quickly. I know I should be sad at the thought of leaving this house, our first real house together as a family, but I'm not. Not all of my memories here are positive and I'm eager for a fresh start. </div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-47898002858216093962010-03-23T18:56:00.000-07:002010-03-23T19:27:12.132-07:00Constant state of worryWell, I had another appointment with my OB today who once again could not find the heartbeat with the doppler and who once again scheduled me for an emergency ultrasound which will be done tomorrow. I'm trying really hard not to freak out. At my ultrasound a couple of weeks ago the tech told us that due to the position of my uterus and placenta we probably wouldn't hear the heartbeat with the doppler for awhile. The logical part of my brain keeps repeating this, but I can't help my heart from beating faster, my hands from shaking or my mind from wandering to a dark yet familiar place. I hope, wish and pray with every ounce of my being that I see a jumping little bean on that screen tomorrow. <div><br /></div><div>During a moment of self pity earlier this evening I was wondering to myself; "Why can't this be easy? Why must I live in a constant state of worry? Why can't it just be smooth sailing." However, I quickly remembered the lesson I learned 53 weeks ago: Life isn't easy or 'smooth'. And if we are lucky enough to be blessed with our rainbow baby then he/she is worth a lifetime of worry.</div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-86543814877860965842010-03-17T05:44:00.000-07:002010-03-17T05:58:58.226-07:00Body, mind and soulThis was going to be the title of my post on Sunday night. Sunday was a beautiful spring day that actually felt more like summer. I spent the day outside with my family and also went for a 5km walk around the lake with a friend. I felt so good when I got home and it reinforced what I have always known: the importance of incorporating body, mind and soul as I attempt to heal my heart and mind. Fresh air and exercise are so important to one's physical and mental health.<div><br /></div><div>During the summer when I was going through a really hard time with my grief and anxiety I started to see a psychiatrist. She was great and was exactly what I needed at the time: the opportunity to voice my grief and anxiety to an impartial, non-judging person. But soon I began to feel worse when I left her office than when I arrived. I would leave with tired weary eyes, a heavy heart and an empty wallet. I soon turned to yoga instead and began to take a couple of classes a week, including hot yoga. I found the meditation techniques I learned in yoga class to be incredibly therapeutic, and I would leave yoga feeling FABulous - healthy, lighthearted and stronger. That is when it became clear to me how important it was going to be to concentrate not only on my mind in the aftermath of our tragedy but also my body and soul.</div><div><br /></div><div>So: these were the thoughts in my mind on Sunday. Unfortunately I began to have a difficult time walking on my foot. I thought I had damaged my archiles but when I woke up on Monday morning with a foot swollen to double the size that I could no longer walk on at ALL and a fever I headed to emergency. I have cellulitis (blood infection) that started from a blister! Have you ever heard of such things? I have to go to to the hospital ever 24 hours for IV antibiotics and I may not be able to walk for another week or two. I have been concerned about the effects of the infection and antibiotics on the baby but the doctor assures me that everything will be fine. Hard not to worry and it has also been hard not to feel sorry for myself but where is that going to get me? Nowhere fast is the answer. Instead of continuing my pity party I'm going to do my best to do some yoga this afternoon. :-)</div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-8516394984723442742010-03-13T17:05:00.000-08:002010-03-13T17:17:55.565-08:00The difference a day makes...It is quite amazing to me the difference one day can make. It can mean the difference between life and death or the difference between a dream come true and a nightmare. <div><br /></div><div>In today's case for me, it is the difference between a hard sad day and just another Saturday. I feel better today, whether it is because it is not Oliver's birthday or because I am now confident that the baby inside my belly is healthy I'm not sure. Probably a combination of both. Regardless, I am a bit relieved not to have that horrible feeling behind my eyes or as much of that stabbing relentless pain in my heart. But I also feel a bit guilty...it just doesn't feel right not be grieving the same every day. What an emotional rollercoaster.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-40694093924801873052010-03-12T16:59:00.000-08:002010-03-13T11:25:53.065-08:00The Power of PrayerWell, I'm happy to say that we received a ray of sunshine on this otherwise cloudy day: we seen our baby on an ultrasound and he/she is perfectly healthy. I cannot express the relief I felt when I seen that heart beating away on the screen. Baby is measuring perfect and the heart was beating at a perfect 165 beats per minute. It truly is a blessing on a difficult day. Another mommy told me to think of the ultrasound as a gift from Oliver, an opportunity to see this baby in my belly to know that there is once again life inside of me. It was such a refreshing thought and one that I clung to during some dark hours.<div><br /></div><div>I have prayed more in the last 24 hours than I can remember. People I don't even know have been praying for me, for us, as have some of my nearest and dearest. It is such an empowering thought to know that there are people talking to God on your behalf, people sending positive energy your way, and I am so so grateful. I posted my concern after my doctors appointment yesterday on my online birth club and was overwhelmed by the 30 responses I received, women who offered words of comfort, empathy and prayer for me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am grateful to all of these women, to my friends that remembered, to those that offered comfort to me today and to my sister for always being there. </div><div><br /></div><div>My mother sent me an email today. It was beautiful. I think she was scared to call me as sometimes my sadness may be expressed as bitchiness especially with those I am most close to. In her email she said that she has been praying for me for the last 24 hours, which surprised me as my mother is self-admittedly not a person who usually prays. She said a lot of sweet, heartbreaking things but the line that hit me the hardest but was also exactly what I needed to hear was: <i>"</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family:Arial, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:small;"><i>I am praying for my new grandchild. Please God let him be born. Let him feel the joy of being a part of your/our family. Let him experience the amazing gift of having you as his Momma." <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Thank-you mom for your words.</span></span></span></i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Juha and I took Seija out this evening. We wanted to go out, to celebrate this day, celebrate the life inside my belly and to celebrate our son who was taken away from us. We were trying to find something special to do but ended up going bowling. It was perfect - the perfect distraction.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is a hard day. I just keep wishing that we were celebrating Oliver's first birthday. Wishing he was running, or crawling around, wishing we were surrounded by laughter and joy, wishing I could see Oliver eat his first piece of cake with his little hands, wishing my little boy was here with me instead of in heaven. BUT...wishing isn't going to change anything, I know that. </div><div><br /></div><div>Happy Birthday Oliver. I love you.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-20355757152567759372010-03-12T06:29:00.000-08:002010-03-12T06:33:11.412-08:00Happy Birthday to my sweet angelA poem I wrote for my son and published in the memoriam section of today's paper.<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">HANKILANOJA, OLIVER MIKKO</div><div style="text-align: center;">MARCH 12, 2009</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In memory of our son who was stillborn one year ago.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sometimes losing you hurts so much I fear I may fall apart,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>But then I remember that you live forever in our hearts.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>For all I have to do is close my eyes and then I see,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>See you smile, hear your laugh and know you are a part of our family.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>You have taught us so much from your home with God up above,</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>For I have learned that you don't need a baby in your arms to feel a mother's love.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Forever in our hearts. We love you Ollie. With love from mommy, daddy and big sister Seija.</div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-20283557140542314802010-03-11T09:27:00.000-08:002010-03-11T09:31:33.519-08:00My breaking heart...Today at the doctors office I was forced to hear the same horrible heartbreaking words I heard 365 days ago: "I can't find a heartbeat." <div><br /></div><div>The doctor said it could be too early (12 weeks) and that it is likely that everything is fine. But he didn't look as though he believed his own words. He scheduled me for an emergency ultrasound that won't be performed until tomorrow, Oliver's Birthday. I honestly don't know what I'll do if I find out my baby's dead tomorrow. Please God, please let this baby make it. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have not stopped crying since I left. I am trying to think positive but it is all just too much to bear. Talk about reliving a nightmare. <div><br /></div><div>Pray for me.</div></div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-79567412059592507792010-03-10T18:04:00.000-08:002010-03-10T18:19:13.399-08:00Try not to think what might have been...A year ago today my son was still alive (in my belly). I was on day 5 of bedrest, hundreds of miles from home in a crappy hospital in Sudbury. My husband spent each night on the hospital bed next to me and we spent the day playing cards and talking, dreaming about bringing our son home. We were no longer scared that something horrible would happen although we were preparing for a pre-term baby. We received word on this day that we only had to make it through another couple of days before we would be flown home. We celebrated this wonderful news and called it a good day. <div><br /></div><div>Before I went to bed I was monitored, as per usual, and we heard Oliver's heartbeat. It was a little faster than normal, a little scattered. The nurse shrugged it off, so we did the same. We settled into sleep oblivious that infection was settling in from my water breaking and poor Oliver wouldn't make it through the night. We discovered this the next day but it was two days later that I would give birth to him. </div><div><br /></div><div>As we are so close to his angelversary I feel as though I am reliving my nightmare. I can smell the hospital, see the nurse and feel the uncomfortable sheets. It is going to be a hard couple of days. I still find myself concentrating on the what ifs. What if we did an ultrasound when Oliver's heart started beating irregulary. Could we have delivered him safely? What if the doctors would have allowed my labour to continue when my water first broke instead of stopping labour and allowing infection to fester for a week. What if? What might have been?</div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow is my first appointment with my OB. I will be 12 weeks on Friday. I am scared shitless for my appointment tomorrow. Nearly convinced that the doc will tell me another heart has stopped beating. Guess I'll find out tomorrow. </div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-87325833172353085092010-03-03T20:18:00.001-08:002010-03-03T20:37:32.057-08:00New year - New life (God Willing)Yesterday I finished my post with a bit of a cliffhanger, perhaps it would have been effective if anyone other than myself actually read this blog. LOL.<div><br /></div><div>Well....we are pregnant and as long as everything goes according to plan we will have a baby in September. I'm excited but also nervous and scared although I guess that is to be expected. When I was pregnant with Seija and in the beginning with Oliver it never really occurred to me that something horrible could happen. As soon as I passed that elusive 12 week mark I was completely confident in planning for a future for my child. Never did it cross my mind that I may end up at the end of the road without a baby. But now - now that is all I think of. </div><div><br /></div><div>I try to stay positive and have only dragged my poor husband to the ER once so far. I rented a doppler so that I could listen to my little bean's heartbeat. I was hoping it might cut down on the visits to the hospital if I could assure myself at home that baby was indeed alive. I used it for the first time last night and after a few moments I located the most beautiful sound on earth. I was so excited to share this sound with my husband but he didn't share in my joy. Instead he became pale, whiter than a sheet and he started shaking a little and looked as though he might faint. The last time he heard that sound was the night before Oliver's heart stopped beating. I guess it brought everything back for him. He seemed surprised that I didn't feel the same. Not that I didn't understand or have some of the same feelings - when I first heard this baby's heartbeat at my ultrasound a few weeks ago I did drift back to that day last year. But, I was so happy to hear this heartbeat and I want to concentrate on this life and not compare every moment, every milestone to Oliver, as much of a challenge as that is going to be. I think I will take it easy on the doppler for awhile though.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will be 12 weeks next Friday - Oliver's Birthday/Angelversary.</div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-64724671977354099632010-03-02T14:06:00.001-08:002010-03-02T16:05:37.327-08:00Four months is a long timeCannot believe it has been four months since I last posted an entry. That's awful. I had intended this to be a place where I could heal my heart through the written word but soon discovered that I would often feel worse after writing. Confronting your grief and in my case anxiety is not an easy thing to do. So I skirted away from it even though I would feel guilty because of it. I owe it to my son and to myself to face these feelings so here I am world. Hear me roar.<div><br /></div><div>It will probably take me a few posts to catch up. I will start with the post that I should have entered a few days after my last post, after I attended the memorial service at my church during which I had the opportunity to light a candle for my little boy. Well...I was unable to physically light the candle myself, my husband had to help me as my hand was shaking to badly to be able to hold the match, but you get the idea. It was a heart wrenching, devastating and beautiful service. My tears flowed from the moment I walked into the church until the moment I walked out but I loved it. It felt like I was closer to Oliver for that hour, as though for those 60 minutes he was sitting beside me, holding my hand and telling me that it was alright. So thank-you to my little boy for that special gift. Momma loves you.</div><div><br /></div><div>Christmas was a bittersweet time as anyone who has suffered a loss can attest to, I'm sure. I was getting so annoyed with all of my well-meaning family and friends who kept saying "Aren't you so excited for Christmas? Seija is getting so old this is sure to be your best Christmas ever!!" I cannot tell you how many times I heard this. I just wanted to yell at them, are you FREAKING kidding me? This is the worst Christmas ever. Yes, it was wonderful to see the joy on my daughter's face, to see the magic of Christmas very evident in her beautiful blue eyes. But above all Christmas was a reminder of what should have been. It should have been our first Christmas as a family of four, it should have been Oliver's first Christmas. He should have been crawling everywhere getting into everything and driving us crazy, instead of watching us from heaven as his ashes rest on our mantle. </div><div><br /></div><div>But we survived. I was much more excited for New Years than I was for Christmas. I just had a feeling that 2010 was going to be a year of wonderment. A year of change, a year for great things.</div><div><br /></div><div>And so far I have not been disappointed...</div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-30798595190398182112009-10-27T19:45:00.000-07:002009-10-27T20:02:44.062-07:00You've got MailI now have a love-hate relationship with both my mailbox and my inbox. <div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-26073253084124195412009-10-26T20:19:00.000-07:002009-10-26T20:34:06.487-07:00Who 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. <div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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?</div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-86907199763152356312009-10-24T19:43:00.000-07:002009-10-24T20:13:15.242-07:00WTFNow 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.<div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-21596979309607815292009-10-14T19:51:00.000-07:002009-10-21T13:44:10.529-07:00The results are inAND...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.<div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-78210078481398081262009-10-13T12:04:00.000-07:002009-10-13T12:26:18.396-07:00Waiting For the Phone to RingThis 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.<div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>Stay tuned!</div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-87463617887444548032009-10-07T18:44:00.000-07:002009-10-07T19:12:53.652-07:00Oliver's Story - Part TwoSo, 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. <div><br /></div><div>The next day was the worst day of my life.</div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8600589598483165532.post-20321768459405999622009-10-03T13:28:00.000-07:002009-10-05T10:41:51.122-07:00Oliver's StoryBefore 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.<div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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!"</div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>That's good for now. Stay tuned for part two.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kristy Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01878922059589670785noreply@blogger.com0