Remembering

When I was pregnant with Jet, Craig and I discussed how we would remember our precious Freyja and Kees with our boy Jet. How we would remember them with our son Jet during his lifetime. Whilst Jet was a little baby, a little boy and growing up. So that he would know and remember his siblings birthdays.

Many babylost parents spend a lot of time wondering how to remember and honour their special babies. Those babies that they can't hold in their arms. Those babies that will never grow up. Those babies who have special places in our hearts.

Craig and I remember our babies every day ... of course. But every year, on Freyja's special day, and on Kees' special days, we stop and remember them. We remember the joy they brought us, and the sadness which the ends of their lives meant to us. The changes their deaths brought to our lives.

We had hoped that we could celebrate Freyja and Kees' lives with our living son Jet. We had hoped that every year on Freyja and Kees' birthdays we would be able to have a birthday cake and candles to remember Jet's brother and sister with him. But now of course we can't. We won't be able to do that.

Craig and I are not able to celebrate our children's lives yet. Maybe we will be able to do that in years to come. But not yet.

We cannot have a birthday cake for our Freyja, or our Kees. And we haven't had to have one yet for our sweet Jet. It's too hard. Any joy we ever had for these children is still over-shadowed by the pain and sadness and grief we have in our hearts for them now.

Maybe we will never be able to have birthday cakes for our children. That's quite possible. Maybe that was a dream that belonged with Jet. And now with Jet gone, that's one of the dreams that has gone with him.

:::

The reason why I was thinking about this today is because Birni and Shane are honouring their son Ciaran's first birthday. And Lindsay is honouring her daughter Zoe's second birthday.

I am remembering and honouring them with you.

Four weeks ago

Four weeks ago today I woke to sunshine coming in through the curtains.

I was in hospital.

Jet was three days old.

The sunshine put fear into my heart.

I jumped out of bed and rushed to check my son.

He should have woken me during the night for a feed, but he hadn't.

He should have been sleeping in his cot, but he wasn't.

He was dead.

Four weeks ago today, I woke to find my newborn son, my sweet Jet, dead in his cot.

And my life changed again. Forever. Irrevocably.

Farewell my sweet Jet. I love you.

Rage and rambles

The other day (yesterday????) I thought things were going a bit back to "normal" again. I was wrong.

Last night I had a bad night. I slept badly. I woke up several times. I couldn't get back to sleep again. I had nightmares. I felt like my blood was boiling or about to spurt out of me. I felt full of rage even though I was "asleep" or supposed to be asleep. I felt totally stressed. How is that normal? Quite simply, it's not.

I don't know what to do about this rage. This violence which is stuck inside me.

I'm angry at the world. At the doctors. At my crappy family. At my crappy friends. At everyone.

I hate going out. I hate going to the shop and seeing all those people going about their lives. I hate listening to people on the street talking about nothing, about crappy, unimportant things. I'm completely over rude, arrogant Dutch people who walk so that they deliberately bump into you. I hate being snubbed by young shop girls who think they're too good for their job. I can't stand it. And I just want to respond with rage.

When I see mums and their kids on the street, I want to scream. When I see parents smoking with kids hanging around, I want to scream. When I see pregnant women, I want to scream. When I see young couples, holding hands, their lives before them, I want to scream.

Basically I'm just filled with rage. And I don't know what to do about it.

I miss Freyja. I miss Kees. I miss Jet. I miss the life I would have lived with one or two or all of them. I miss being able to see them grow. I hate it that I will never know what they would look like. What they would be like. Whether they would be like me, or like Craig. That I will never know ANYTHING more about them. I can't stand it.

I hate it that people treat us like lepers. I hate it that people who were so upset about Kees' death, haven't even contacted us about Jet. I hate it.

I hate it that I can't cope with even the smallest things. That even the stupid leak in my ceiling (the subject of several previous posts) causes me to completely stress out. I hate it.

I can't stand it that some people are finding it so "difficult" to cope with Jet's death, that they don't have time for us. That Jet's death is so traumatic for them, that they don't have the inclination or energy to think of us. I want to bash those people. I want to bash their heads in. How dare they? How dare they be so bloody selfish? Can't they remember that Jet is OUR SON??? How is it possible that this escapes their mind???

We haven't seen or heard from Craig's two sisters since before Kees' funeral. Neither of them attended Kees' funeral. After Jet died, when Craig was talking to his mother on the phone, she said to him that one of his sisters was writing a card (WTF???) and the other didn't know how to approach him (WTF???). She suggested that perhaps he should call her. WTF??? Who are all these fucking selfish people??? Craig should call his sister because she doesn't know how to approach him? What about simply calling him on the phone and saying sorry??? Selfish bloody bitch. We never got a call or a card. We got nothing. Not one single thing from either of his sisters to say they were sorry about Jet.

I had a friend visiting me the other day. The one who looked after our cat Blair whilst we were travelling. I said to her that none of our mutual friends had contacted me. Not one. Most of these mutual friends are ex-colleagues of mine. She still works with them. She suggested maybe I should ring them and tell them that it's ok to contact me. WTF??? I should call them? Where do people get these ideas from??? Since when does a bereaved person call people to tell them it's ok to call??

What is happening in the world? When did people become so selfish??

I was looking on face.book yesterday. I culled a lot of people who were "friends" last year, following Kees' death. So sometimes I cheat and I log on as Craig and check on some of the ex-friends. My brother is an ex-friend. He had a status update some time ago about Jet's death. Some of his friends responded. Including our cousin's wife, who made a comment about how she and her husband were "thinking of you (meaning my brother) and your family (meaning my parents and siblings) and especially Mirne and Craig". WTF???? "Especially Mirne and Craig" ... what does that mean? Wasn't Jet OUR SON??? I feel like I need to wear a t-shirt to remind people. I feel like people are kidnapping the memory of MY CHILDREN. I want to scream at them. This is all I have left of my children, and it feels like people are taking it from me.

Two people call us regularly. My sister L, the missionary. She calls pretty much every couple of days. Except when she's too busy with her life and her three kids. She has a life. And my mum, except when she's telling me how to feel, in which case I hang up on her or she hangs up on me. Which happens quite regularly. But they're both up to their old tricks again. They ring. Craig answers the phone. They ask for me. They don't speak to him first. They don't ask him how he's going. They don't bother to talk to him. Like somehow Jet was more my son than his. This will be the THIRD TIME I'm going to have this conversation with them. Once after Freyja's death. Once after Kees' death. And now again. You think people would remember.

Today is four weeks since Jet was born. Four weeks.

Nail polish

I put silver nail polish on my toes on the Monday before Jet was born. Two coats of O.pi silver nail polish with a third coat of lovely Di.or sparkly silver polish.

It looked beautiful. I did it especially knowing I was going to hospital to deliver Jet on the Friday.

It was the Monday after my birthday. The Monday after Craig's birthday. The last week of my pregnancy with Jet.

During this pregnancy, my only pregnancy during the summer, I painted my toenails every fortnight. It gave me something to do. I liked the different colours. I bought lots of different polishes. I painted them every fortnight.

I wore sandals during my second and third trimester with Jet's pregnancy. I was feeling warm. It turned out that during this pregnancy my body temperature was about a degree cooler than it usually is. That meant that I felt the outside (warm) temperature much quicker than I usually did. Hence the sandals. And the toenail polish.

I remember a few weeks before Jet was born, reading on a blog, or in someone's comments, about a new baby-lost mum who did not want to remove the toenail polish she had worn for the birth of her baby. I distinctly remember reading it. And now I know how she feels.

I've been wearing this silver nail polish since 24 August. It's flaking. It doesn't look good any more. It doesn't look good at all.

I remember how happy I was when I put it on. It was hard work. I was over 37 weeks pregnant. It was awkward trying to reach and put three coats of nail polish on ten toes. But I did it. I did it because I wanted to have nice sparkly toenails when Jet arrived in our world. I debated over blue nail polish or silver. I chose silver.

It's time to take it off. It's looking awful. It's not a good memory any more. I did it especially to create a good memory, but it's not a good memory any more.

Time to take off that nail polish today I think.

Anything is possible

A friend said something to me via email a few weeks ago. She's very wise, and her words touched me very much. I hope she doesn't mind if I paraphrase some of those words here.

She said that she often thinks that (before her twin girls died) all her wishes were attainable. She realises that they have may been slim chances, such as winning the lottery, but they were all possibilities no matter how small. Now her greatest wish is one which she knows will never come true. She knows it can never happen. She wants her children back. She wishes that there was something she could do for me, but she knows that my greatest wish is also to have my children back, safe in my arms. And that is not possible any more.

I've blogged about this in the past. About living my life, looking forward to the future, wondering what was around the corner, about knowing for sure that the best was still to come. And waking up one day realising that the best has been. And that I didn't know it. Realising that not everything is possible any more. It's not.

Some people think that it is ... possible that is. But for me it is not. Not everything is possible any more.

My children are dead. Freyja is gone. Kees is gone. Jet is gone. They are never coming back. They will never grow up. They are gone. Their lives are gone. They are not possible any more. Nothing can make that right.

My friend is correct.

:::

Craig and I, during our recent travels in Norway, climbed a glacier.

It was very bloody scary.

I was in a state of very heightened anxiety and I freaked myself out completely before we even got to the bottom of the glacier.

We had to walk, climb, hike over about a kilometre of rocks, massive boulders, rough terrain before we even got to the glacier. By the time we got there I had worked myself into a very anxious state and had to be talked into getting up the glacier by Craig and our wonderful guide.

Our guide was a very sensitive, young, Nepalese man who has climbed just about every glacier and rock-face in the world. No joke - just this last summer he climbed to the top of Mt Everest TWICE. Unsurprisingly, as this is his life's work, he also has multiple friends and family who have died by falling from just about every glacier and rock face in the world. Really. He seemed at peace with those deaths and talked much about "this life" -- making me presume he believed very strongly in "another" or "next" life.

However, he said one thing that struck me. He said "anything is possible". He was speaking specifically about a man with no legs who "climbed" Mt Everest. Goodness knows how he did it, perhaps on the back of someone else. But he fervently believed that "anything is possible".

I don't. I don't believe it. I agree with my friend -- anything was possible before we lost our children. Now it is not. If anything was possible, I would have my children back. But anything is NOT possible, so I cannot have my children back. People who delude themselves by thinking that anything is possible are in for a rude shock. It may give them hope to think that, but reality has a way of biting you in the bum just when you're least expecting it.

I remember a time when anything was possible. When Craig and I married on 11 March 2006, we believed that very strongly. We were overjoyed to have the opportunity to explore our seemingly endless possibilities together.

But anything is no longer possible. And people can say what they want (usually to try and cheer us up), but nothing changes that.

:::

I'm starting to feel more "normal".

Don't be fooled. "Normal" is just a word and it means different things to different people.

"Normal" for Craig and I is being parents of dead children. That's what our life together is about.

We've had lots of practice at being dead-baby parents. It's what we've been doing since 24 July 2006 (when we found out that Freyja had died). It's like we've been preparing for being dead-baby parents for over three years now. And now the preparation has ended. This is it. We are now the proud parents of three perfect and beautiful babies. Unfortunately we're not happy parents. Unfortunately we will never be happy parents. Unfortunately we will always be dead-baby parents.

That's our "normal" - that's our life.

I sincerely hope that's not all that our life will be. I hope not. I hope that we also get to be something else. Maybe I'll get to be a gardener. Or a bread-baker. Maybe we'll get to be someone's friends. Maybe we'll get to join a 4WD club. Maybe we'll get to be home-builders. Maybe we'll get to be something other than just dead-baby parents.

Maybe our "normal" will become something good for us.

Maybe our "normal" will make us happy one day.

Post traumatic stress disorder

I've been surfing the net, reading up more about PTSD. I've been interested in PTSD for several years now, ever since it appears that it applies to me.

This is what the Mayo Clinic has to say about it. See www.mayoclinic.com.

Symptoms

Signs and symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder typically begin within three months of a traumatic event. In a small number of cases, though, PTSD symptoms may not occur until years after the event.

Post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms are commonly grouped into three types: intrusive memories, avoidance and numbing, and increased anxiety or emotional arousal (hyperarousal).

Symptoms of intrusive memories may include:

• Flashbacks, or reliving the traumatic event for minutes or even days at a time
• Upsetting dreams about the traumatic event

Symptoms of avoidance and emotional numbing may include:

• Trying to avoid thinking or talking about the traumatic event
• Feeling emotionally numb
• Avoiding activities you once enjoyed
• Hopelessness about the future
• Memory problems
• Trouble concentrating
• Difficulty maintaining close relationships

Symptoms of anxiety and increased emotional arousal may include:

• Irritability or anger
• Overwhelming guilt or shame
• Self-destructive behavior, such as drinking too much
• Trouble sleeping
• Being easily startled or frightened
• Hearing or seeing things that aren't there

Post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms can come and go. You may have more post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms during times of higher stress or when you experience reminders of what you went through. You may hear a car backfire and relive combat experiences, for instance. Or you may see a report on the news about a rape, and feel again the horror and fear of your own assault.

Diagnosis

To be diagnosed with PTSD, you must meet criteria spelled out in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, published by the American Psychiatric Association. This manual is used by mental health professionals to diagnose mental conditions.

Criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder to be diagnosed include:

• You experienced or witnessed an event that involved death or serious injury, or the threat of death or serious injury
• Your response to the event involved intense fear, horror or a sense of helplessness
• You relive experiences of the event, such as having distressing images and memories, upsetting dreams, flashbacks, or even physical reactions
• You try to avoid situations or things that remind you of the traumatic event or feel a sense of emotional numbness
• You feel as if you're constantly on guard or alert for signs of danger, which may make you have trouble sleeping or concentrating
• Your symptoms last longer than one month
• The symptoms cause significant distress in your life or interfere with your ability to go about your normal daily tasks

Today

It's early in the morning. I've just gotten out of the bed. We've had our morning coffee. It's now 8.10 am.

What will I do for the rest of the day?

What will I do now?

:::

I hoped that my life now would be so different.

I had hoped that once Jet was born I wouldn't have a moment to sit and think.

I had hoped that Jet would keep me busy 24 hours a day.

I had hoped that Jet would not only give me purpose in life, but would give me something to do. Something to focus on. A person to look after. A future to look forward to. A reason for being.

Now it's 8.12 am and I wonder what on earth I will do for the rest of the day.

Oh sure, I need to clean the fridge (it hasn't been done for ages), vacuum the apartment, fold up clean wash, and otherwise generally prepare the apartment for Craig's aunt who is visiting for a few days on Sunday.

But that's it. I don't have anything else to do. I don't know what else to do.

Watching TV is hard work at the moment, as is reading a book. My levels of concentration, which have always been bad since Freyja died, have shattered again. If I can concentrate for five minutes at a time on the TV, then that's pretty good. It means I never really know what's going on in those programs that we're watching. Currently watching the Foyle's War series, which we've seen before.

I woke this morning and said to Craig that literally every moment, from the moment when I wake in the morning until the moment I (finally) get to sleep, is spent thinking about my children. About their lives, their deaths, what I could have done differently, what I should have done differently, if anything could have been done differently. Whether the NFI (the Netherlands Forensic Institute) will find something this time. Whether it's something in me. Whether it's something in Craig. And the only conclusion I ever draw, after spending every waking moment thinking about my sweet, beautiful, dead children, is that I never should have had them. They never should have been conceived. Because then they never would have been born, and they never would have died.

:::

I need to speak to my doctor. Because thinking about all this stuff every waking moment of the day is exhausting. I'm physically and mentally exhausted. I suffer from constant headaches, chest pains, hot and cold sweats. I get flushes/rashes over my body. You name it, I get it.

Yesterday I was on the phone to my sister and the conversation was stressing me. I could tell because suddenly the telephone (which is one of those light plastic portable phones) felt like a very heavy brick in my hand. My fingers were suddenly struggling to hold the phone to my ear. I felt like I was going to drop it - like my fingers were incapable of holding it any longer. So I had to get off the phone.

My sister said that after Kees died last year she had to stop herself from living her life filled with fear. She said she had "irrational fears". Like worrying about her three kids running onto the road, or worrying about them near a swimming pool. She said she consciously had to stop herself feeling these "irrational fears" or otherwise she would be living her life in fear.

I have to say that I fail to see that these fears are irrational. They seem completely rational to me. I guess she believes that God will protect her and her family (she's a missionary), although she was there and praying for Kees when God failed to protect Kees. She's seen that you can't rely on God's protection.

I wonder what she thinks of me then.

I'm living my life in fear and have done so since Freyja died. I lived 37 weeks in fear when I was pregnant with Kees - even though everyone assured me it couldn't happen again, and to enjoy the pregnancy. I lived 38 weeks in fear when I was pregnant with Jet. Again I was assured by everyone that it wouldn't happen again, and to make sure I enjoyed the pregnancy. I didn't enjoy either pregnancy. I lived in fear. Fear and hope battled. Hope was winning. But it didn't last long. Fear won in the end.

Everyone (except Craig) thought my fears were irrational. Everyone. Friends and family and anyone else. They all told me so. They told me with their mouths, with their eyes, with their bodies. They all thought I was crazy to be so irrational. I bet they've all forgotten that now. I bet they don't remember that now. That they were so judgmental and that I was so worried.

Irrational fear. I don't think so.

:::

Oh yes, another hope which is gone.

I had hoped that after Jet's birth I would no longer need to take anti-d medication. I had hoped that the joy which would be in my life with my living son would mean I no longer needed any anti-d medication. And although I've avoided taking any medication for three weeks, I don't think I can avoid it any longer.

I hope that it will be a short-term thing only, but I worry that it will be long-term. I don't want to take any meds at all. I don't want the side-effects. I want to be normal again (which I haven't been since July 2006), but I wonder whether that will ever be possible.

:::

We dropped off our rental camper yesterday.

We've rented campers from this guy before. He's pretty good and we trust him not to rip us off. He knows about our children. He and his wife have a toddler.

I was talking to him yesterday about Jet, and saying that we sent out Jet's remembrance card mostly because I wanted people to know what a beautiful boy he was. I didn't want people to think that he must have been ill or something. Because that's what everyone thinks. That obviously the child was ill, or had some condition, otherwise he wouldn't have died. But no-one asks. No-one wants to talk to us about it. No-one wants to talk to us about our (dead) children. Everyone just (incorrectly) assumes.

The camper guy said the same. He said to me that he assumed we wouldn't want to talk about our (dead) children. He said he assumed it would make us uncomfortable. I told him it made us more uncomfortable not to talk about them. That those (dead) children are part of our lives. Part of who we are. That we can't simply pretend they didn't exist. That I can't pretend I didn't just spend the better part of 3 years being pregnant. That I didn't give birth to a daughter and two sons. I think he was rather surprised to hear us say that. I think he's part of that ill-informed group who believe it's better to say nothing. Not surprising really. That ill-informed group makes up most of our society.

However, he said that since we told him about Jet, he's thought about us often. He often goes to check his daughter during the day and even at night. He thinks about us and our (dead) children and then he checks his daughter to see if she's ok. He asked if we could send him a remembrance card.

:::

It's now 8.50 am. I wonder what I will do with the rest of my day.