The Gap

Melissa posted this on her blog and I love it. I just needed to have it on my blog too.

by Michael Crenlinsten


"The gap between those who have lost children and those who have not is profoundly difficult to bridge. No one, whose children are well and intact can be expected to understand what parents who have lost children have absorbed and what they bear. Our children come to us through every blade of grass, every crack in the sidewalk, every bowl of breakfast cereal. We seek contact with their atoms, their hairbrush, their toothbrush, their clothing. We reach for what was integrally woven into the fabric of our lives, now torn and shredded. 

A black hole has been blown through our souls and, indeed, it often does not allow the light to escape. It is a difficult place. For us to enter there is to be cut deeply, and torn anew, each time we go there, by the jagged edges of our loss. Yet we return, again and again, for that is where our children now reside. This will be so for years to come and it will change us profoundly. At some point in the distant future, the edges of that hole will have tempered and softened but the empty space will remain - a life sentence. 

Our friends will change through this. There is no avoiding it. We grieve for our children, in part, through talking about them and our feelings for having lost them. Some go there with us, others cannot and through their denial and a further measure, however unwittingly, to an already heavy burden. Assuming that we may be feeling "better" six months later is simply "to not get it." The excruciating and isolating reality that bereaved parents feel is hermetically sealed from the nature of any other human experience. Thus it is a trap - those whose compassion and insight we most need are those for whom we abhor the experience that would allow them that sensitivity and capacity. And yet, somehow there are those, each in their own fashion, who have found a way to reach us and stay, to our comfort. They have understood, again each in their own way, that our children remain our children through our memory of them. Their memory is sustained through speaking about them and our feelings about their death. Deny this and you deny their life. Deny their life and you no longer have a place in ours. 

We recognize that we have moved to an emotional place where it is often very difficult to reach us. Our attempts to be normal are painful and the day to day carries a silent, screaming anguish that companies us, sometimes from moment to moment. Were we to give it its own voice we fear we would become truly unreachable, and so we remain "strong" for a host of reasons even as the strength saps our energy and drains our will. Were we to act out our true feelings we would be impossible to be with. We resent having to act normal, yet we dare not do otherwise. People who understand this dynamic are our gold standard.

Working our way through this over the years will change us as does every experience - and extreme experience changes one extremely. We know we will have recovered when, as we have read, it is no longer so painful to be normal. We do not know who we will be at that point or who will still be with us. 

14 months

Today is 14 months since Jacob was born and it hit me hard this morning. I thought about it last night and this morning when I woke up. A few hours later, Ted and I were sitting on the couch and I just started having flashbacks of the hospital and started crying and felt terrible. I told him that we had better go out and do something because I was having flashbacks. I cried a lot while getting ready to go out. It's been awhile since I cried like that.

We went downtown Oakville. We went to the garden and sat for awhile while I cried. Then we collected some dirt over the place he is buried to put in the container Jessie gave me on his first birthday. I've been meaning to get the dirt for awhile, but it worked out well that we did it on an anniversary.

We left the garden since I was just getting sadder there. I got my craving (a breakfast BELT from Tim Horton's, even though I just had cereal 1.5 hours earlier) and went to eat near the lake. A very pregnant woman walked by and it bothered me, even though I'm pregnant. I realized while walking downtown that if I saw Dr. A (which has happened twice there), it would just make the flashbacks worse. Maybe that is my answer about seeing a different OB this time around. 

It is so hot out today. I love hot weather, but it has been too much for me since getting pregnant, since I'm already warmer than usual. We came home and I spoke to a friend. Then I took pictures of an outfit for a 9 month old that would likely fit Jacob now. It was on the bear that my family gave us for Christmas. 

I felt a bit crazy when I was putting it back on the bear after. I pretended I was dressing Jacob and was talking to him as I did. I hesitated to even write that here because I felt so crazy doing it. But what is the difference from talking to him as I walk around the house everyday? 

We are going to a movie this afternoon, just to get out of the house so that I don't dwell too much. There isn't anything that we really want to see (well, Ted wants to see Cowboys and Aliens.....I'm just not up for that). I think we're going to see Crazy, Stupid, Love (I can't wait to see The Help when it comes out this month). 

We went to the cottage last week and it was nice. But Jacob was missing the whole time. While sitting at the lake, I imagined one of us staying in the cottage because he was napping. When we saw the duck with the 3 baby ducks, I imagine pointing them out to Jacob and watching him as he watched them. I imagined taking him in the water and waiting to see if he liked it or not. 

We hiked around a waterfall that we pass on the way to the cottage, called Brooks Falls. We have stopped there many times, but this time I found a metal plate on a rock with a dedication to Wayne Brooks, who lived for 50 or 60 years. Under it was a dedication to Melanie Brooks with one date, June 1, 1996. Oh, it made me sad. I got home and tried to find more information online, but haven't found anything. 

At the falls

Ted's friend and his girlfriend came up for a night. While making dinner, she asked me about Jacob and it was so nice to talk about him. She apologized, worried that she was asking too much but I told her that I like it, that I love to talk about him. 

No trip to the cottage is complete without writing Jacob's name somewhere. I wanted to carve it in a tree, but we didn't have a good tool to do it with. Next time. 

At the end of our stay, my parents and sister, brother-in-law and nephews came. And he was missing. 

Always missing.

Baths

I have been doing a lot better lately with seeing and holding my baby nephew. I can hold him without tears. I can talk to him and kiss his head without tears. I am always comparing, always thinking about what I've missed with Jacob, but it is easier.

I dropped by Laurie's tonight and she was giving Danny a bath in the kitchen. She was talking to him and he was loving it. She picked him up, wrapped him in a towel and headed for the bedroom to dress him. I thought she would nurse him as well and I just didn't feel up to seeing that. She called me to come, but I said that it was OK and I stood in the kitchen staring at the baby tub full of water and pictured a 2 month old Jacob in it and started crying. And cried and cried and cried.

I pulled myself together and went into the bedroom and talked to him while she put his diaper on and dressed him. Then I held him while she did some laundry. I was ok doing all that. But the thought of that bathtub brought back the "what-could-have-beens". I left shortly after. On the way home, I thought of the time we did bathe Jacob. His little, lifeless body. There was no smiling and animated talking. No trying to get him to smile back at us and laugh. There was soaking in every second because we knew we didn't have long with him. There were tears and worrying about his delicate skin. I am so glad I got to give him 2 baths, I'm just sad I couldn't give him hundreds.

A quote

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world,
which I find myself constantly walking around in the
daytime, and falling in at night.

Edna St. Vincent Millay
American Poet

Regrets

I have many regrets. Too many to count. Last night a new one came up. I thought I had already thought of them all.

I was lying in bed on my back and looking at my belly and remembering what it looked like with Jacob in it. Regret overwhelmed me that I didn't take any pictures of my belly when I was lying down. The outline of my uterus was so clear. I looked at it so often. But I never took a picture of it. Not one.

I told Ted what I was thinking and started crying. He said that I didn't expect Jacob to die so I didn't take the pictures. I didn't expect him to die, but why didn't I take the pictures just to document the pregnancy? What was wrong with me? Why didn't I do it? I enjoyed looking at my belly so much, but I didn't take one picture of it while lying down.

I can still remember what it looked and felt like, but how long will I remember?

Name on the street

Ted and I go for a walk most nights after dinner. The other night, I noticed that part of the sidewalk on our street had been replaced and the cement was still wet enough to do this:

Taken a few days after Ted wrote it

It is about halfway between our house and my sisters house. I like that we'll see it every time we walk to visit each other.

A good conversation and some news

My sister Jessie was at the cottage last week with my parents. She told me about a conversation they had which had made me feel good.


They were sitting around talking about who should sleep in what room when we are all supposed to go up in a few weeks. My Mom said that Ted and I would want the butterfly room (called that because of the butterfly wallpaper) because we like butterflies. My Dad said that he wasn't sure if it would make us too sad. My Mom said that we want to talk about Jacob, we like it, and we like when other people do too.
At some point, my Mom said that Jacob would be almost 9 months old. I didn't know that she has been keeping track and it means a lot to me that she knows how old he would be right now.


My Mom called me the other day and said that she got me an umbrella because it has butterflies on it. She didn't know if I would want it or not, but I do, if only for the thought she put into buying it.


I found out for sure that I am pregnant today (I've written more about it on my other blog). My fourth pregnancy. We are overjoyed. The fear hasn't totally set in yet and I am fine with that. I know everything that can go wrong, but if it isn't dominating my thoughts, I am happy. I've talked to Jacob a bit more today, thanking him mostly.


We went to Costco today to get more pregnancy tests (4 Clearblue tests for $19!) and I was looking at sleepers. I found a 9 month size one and quickly laid it on my chest, as if a baby was wearing it, his head was resting on my shoulder. I wanted to see how big Jacob would probably be. I did it all really quickly because I didn't really want anyone to wonder what I was doing. We have missed out on so much and we will always be missing out. But we are in a better place than we were last month at this time and we are grateful for that.