Right now

Right now... (an occasional meme, alternating from time to time with "The Current")

June was Full Month #3 (going on 4) of life in the age of COVID-19. I FINALLY got my hair cut last week!! and we've been to see BIL & family (including Great-Nephew) three times, but otherwise (aside from walks around the neighbourhood), we've stayed pretty close to home since March 12th. Dh continues to make weekly (or so) expeditions to the supermarket/drugstore, and for takeout on Saturday nights. 

I feel like some of these answers will be repetitive from previous months, since not a lot has been going on... but here goes!

Reading: My COVID reading drought/slowdown continues, although I did better this month than last.  All I can say is thank goodness for online book groups, and re-reads. ;)  

I read 4 books in June (reviewed on this blog & tagged "2020 books"):  

• "The Death of Expertise" by Tom Nichols. 
• "The Baker's Daughter" by D.E. Stevenson (a re-read) 
• "Rilla of Ingleside" by L.M. Montgomery (a re-read) 
• "Katherine Wentworth" by D.E. Stevenson -- my online DES fan group/book club just started discussing this one. 

So far this year, I've read 18 books.  I'm currently at 60% of my Goodreads 2020 Reading Challenge goal of 30 books, and (despite slacking off somewhat) I'm currently 4 books ahead of schedule.  

Current read(s):   

• "Normal People" by Sally Rooney (a re-read along with episodes of the BBC TV adaptation -- see "Watching," below)(previous blog review here).
• "Daisy Jones & the Six" by Taylor Jenkins Reid, which I read & enjoyed last year (blog review here), and which the newly rebooted Gateway Women book club is currently reading & discussing. 
• "White Rage" by Carol Anderson, which has been in my TBR pile for a very long time, and which I finally opened after the events in Minneapolis and elsewhere in late May/earlier this month. 

We still haven't been back to our local mega-bookstore since March 12th.  :(  It reopened on May 19th, but we've been in no hurry to return...! I have, however, been buying e-books for my Kobo e-reader and Amazon Kindle phone app -- most of them older titles bought at deep discounts ($5 or less), but some recent releases too.  A few recently purchased titles:  

• "Why We're Polarized" by Ezra Klein 
• "The Skin We're In" by Desmond Cole 
• "The Warmth of Other Suns" by Isabel Wilkerson 
• "How to Be an Antiracist" by Ibram X. Kendi
• "A Nearly Normal Family" by M.T. Edvardsson

Watching:  I so enjoyed watching "Mrs. America" on FX (Hulu in the States), which ended in mid-June, and would highly recommend it :) (although I understand Gloria Steinem was not impressed, lol).  It's about the 1970s battle to ratify the Equal Rights Amendment, with Phyllis Schlafly and her Eagle Forum versus Gloria Steinem, Shirley Chisholm, Bella Abzug and a host of familiar (and not-so-familiar) feminist figures of the time. Even though it depicts events that happened 40-50 years ago, it explains a lot about the current political situation in the U.S.    

And if you loved (or even just liked) Sally Rooney's novel "Normal People," which I read last fall, you MUST watch "Normal People," the TV adaptation.  Here in Canada, it's available on the CBC's Gem streaming service -- two half-hour episodes released every Wednesday for six weeks (10 of the 12 episodes available so far -- I will be watching the final 2 later today!). (It's on Hulu in the States, and was on the BBC in the UK earlier this year.)  I almost always find myself preferring the book to the TV or movie version, but this is amazing. Paul Mescal & Daisy Edgar-Jones, who play Connell & Marianne, are sheer perfection in the roles -- they have wonderful chemistry together, and deserve every award available for their performances. I am very sorry to see it end. (I've been re-reading the relevant chapters of the book after I watch each new episode!) 

I understand there's been a huge clamour for a sequel (to the TV show, if not the book itself) -- a "season/series 2" -- which Rooney says she has no interest in doing. I'm with her. Sequels are, by & large, disappointing... some things are perfect in & of themselves, even if they don't wrap everything up with a neat little bow, and leave you wanting more. BUT -- the Mescal & Edgar-Jones did recently reprise their characters of Marianne & Connell in a short film for a fundraiser in Ireland -- along with another character from another beloved British show, which I haven't seen but have heard enough about to get the joke. ;)  The complete video is embedded in this story, here. (They even SING... seriously, is there nothing these actors can't do??) 

Listening:  (Not right now, because it's daytime, but...!)  To fireworks going off. Almost every night lately. All the usual big civic displays have been cancelled because of COVID, but people can still buy and set them off on the traditional holidays (Victoria Day, Canada Day)... and some people, it seems save them up & set them off year round (!).  We could see fireworks from our windows on Father's Day (??) & for several nights afterward. Monday night, I got woken up around midnight by some loud bangs that sound like they were coming from very close by. Last night, the noise (& some displays, visible above the trees behind the townhouses) started just after sunset. It sounded like a barrage of artillery fire. And Canada Day evening isn't even until tonight!!  Sure, I enjoy a good fireworks display -- but on the appropriate occasions, and at a reasonable hour -- not EVERY FRICKIN' NIGHT!!  (Rant over...!) 

(Un)Following:  I feel a bit guilty about this, but I actually snoozed someone on Facebook recently, and am considering making it an "unfollow" once the 30 days of the snooze period are up... a very nice (slightly) older woman we both know, who never posts anything overly political or otherwise offensive (unlike most of the other people I've unfollowed, or been tempted to unfollow!)... but who floods my feed daily with dozens and DOZENS (I'm not exaggerating, I actually counted -- there were something like 60 (!!) posts one day and 40+ posts another!! -- and that's typical...!) of memes, videos, and reposted memories, mostly old photos of her kids and grandkids. I don't feel like I'm missing anything consequential so far.

Drinking: Iced tea, on the balcony, with a good book (when it's not too hot & humid out there). Ahhh!

Eating: Restaurant patios are now open hereabouts (albeit not the dining rooms themselves) -- and although I think I'd feel safer on a patio than inside, we're still in no hurry to head out to eat where there are other people yet.  We have been ordering takeout and enjoying a bit of variety (and a reprieve from cooking!) on recent Saturday nights. :)  

Thinking:  About what to do to make our upcoming 35th wedding anniversary at least a LITTLE special (if only a special takeout dinner, lol).  

Buying (besides books, lol):  (Still) Not much! Most stores & malls are now open here (with social distancing measures in place), but I am still not in any big hurry to go shopping. I wrote about my recent attempt at online shopping here. ;)  As I commented to Mali there -- even if my online shopping experience was better, perhaps it's best for my wallet that I don't do it too often...??  ;)  

Wearing:  Still mostly wearing denim shorts and capri-length yoga pants around the house & outside for walks. I got out my denim capris for the first time since last summer to wear to visit BIL/Great-Nephew and then to the hairdresser's. I have not been on a scale since early on in the pandemic, and I kind of held my breath as I put them on, but fortunately, they still do fit!  #winning 

Walking:  Not enough lately. We started doing some walking again in April, didn't really get into the regular habit until the last week of May, were doing pretty well for most of June (at least half an hour, 3-5 times a week)... and then the hot, humid weather hit. Ugh!  

Wanting:  A little more variety in the day (without sacrificing safety too much) would be nice...?? Dh is bored silly right now. I generally do better than he does on that front, but even I can get a bit stir-crazy from time to time. (I'm generally a homebody... but this is ridiculous...!)  ;)  

Enjoying:  My short, cool, easy to care for, nicely trimmed hair (again!)!! 

Celebrating:  Canada Day, today! (albeit the celebrations will be very subdued this year...!)  So thankful for my country!

Trying:  Not to think too much about what we're missing out on (see below). Trying to be grateful that we're in a position to sit tight and stay safe at home, and that the numbers here are trending downward (albeit more slowly than we'd like).

Missing:  My family. Right now, I should be counting down the days to our departure west, and calling my sister to wrap up last-minute details for our parents' 60th wedding anniversary party. It feels very strange not to have a summer visit home to look forward to, and to not know when that next visit will be. I'm reminded of summer 2018, when I didn't get home either for the first time in many years (because of FIL's final illness and then death in early August).  But even then, I knew that we would probably be heading home to see my family for (Canadian) Thanksgiving in October, or Christmas (as usual) at the very latest. Right now, I'm not keen to fly... and more importantly, there's not much point in making the trip so long as Manitoba's 14-day quarantine for all out-of-province visitors is in place. 

I know that even Christmas is by no means guaranteed. Just crossing my fingers and hoping and praying that the situation will improve by then... :( 

Loving: Being able to see little Great-Nephew again more regularly. :) 

Feeling:  Mostly upbeat, but occasionally despondent over the state of the world right now. 

"Christopher Robin" and the saddest day

Yesterday was a hard day for dh & BIL. They went to see their dad -- & then went with stepMIL to the funeral home/cemetery to begin pre-planning dad's funeral. :(  When they came home, they picked up me & then SIL and we went out for dinner.

It was SIL who suggested we should go see "Christopher Robin." BIL rolled his eyes, lol. Dh was willing to do whatever we wanted. I wanted to go see it -- but I would have preferred to go just with dh -- because I KNEW I was going to cry.  (As I mentioned in a recent post, Katie's nursery theme was to have been Classic Pooh, and I still have several Classic Pooh-themed items in our home, particularly in our bedroom.)

And I did cry. I sat between dh & SIL & cried through the entire opening sequence (young Christopher Robin leaves the Hundred Acre Wood to go to school, grows up and does not return), as well as other points throughout the movie. Not sure if SIL or BIL saw me crying -- and even if they did, I KNOW they did not make the connection as to WHY I might be crying (other than that I am an emotional sap, lol). Anyway, it was a cute albeit somewhat melancholy movie, beautifully filmed, & I'm glad we went -- although I think the adults in the audience probably got more out of it than the kids.

In the movie, Pooh calls "today" "my favourite day." Today, August 5th, 1998, was the day I went to my 6-month prenatal visit and heard the words no pregnant woman ever wants to hear.  Two days later, August 7th, 1998, is the date I delivered my stillborn daughter, the "official" date that's on her niche marker and on all the paperwork. It's the date we'll officially mark, on Tuesday.

But 20 years ago today was actually the saddest day of my life -- the first of many awful days that were to follow as, one by one, my dreams crashed around me. August 5th, and 7th, will never be my favourite days.

"I always get to where I’m going by walking away from where I’ve been," says Pooh in the movie. After Tuesday, I will resume walking down this road less travelled to wherever it is that I'm going. But just for a few days, I will wallow a little in where I've been.

(Don't get me wrong, I haven't been sitting around by the Kleenex box all day. But I'm definitely feeling rather subdued. And glad that I don't have any reason to leave the house/condo today.) 

Right now

Right now... (an occasional meme, alternating from time to time with "The Current")

Reading:  "Mrs. Tim of the Regiment" (also known as "Mrs. Tim Christie"), the first in a series of four "Mrs. Tim" books, and the latest read for my D.E. Stevenson online book group. Year-to-date, I've finished 14 books (out of my Goodreads 2018 Reading Challenge goal of 24 books)(this will be #15). 

Recent purchases: 

• "The Death of Truth: Notes on Falsehood in the Age of Trump" by Michiko Kakutani 
• All three Cormoran Strike mystery novels by Robert Galbraith (aka J.K. Rowling) -- and I hear there is a fourth one coming out soon. (Anyone read them? I like Rowling, I like mysteries and I heard these were good.) 

Watching:  Not much on TV, since season 2 of The Handmaid's Tale ended....! Time to get reacquainted with my Netflix subscription... We haven't been to a movie on the big screen recently either. I am thinking "Christopher Robin," coming out this weekend (appropriately!) might be a good pick if I'm in a weepy mood. (Katie's nursery was going to be Classic Pooh themed.) 

Listening:  I will admit to indulging in some vintage Bay City Rollers songs via YouTube since Alan Longmuir's untimely death last month. ;)  

Following:  Construction has begun on the last several townhouse units behind us (basements poured, framing ready to begin). None of the 59 units is yet anywhere close to being finished. I'm thinking some MIGHT be ready to move in by later this fall... It's been noisy & dirty, and it's taken WAY longer than I think any of us had anticipated -- but I have to admit, it's been kind of entertaining too...!  (Should you like to be my neighbour, you'd better have a fat wallet -- I've seen resale units on Realtor.ca for anywhere from $900,000+ to $1.2 million (they were advertised at "from the low $600,000s" when we moved in two years ago). For a TOWNHOUSE. About 15 feet wide.  On a handkerchief-sized lot.)

Drinking/Eating:  Not as well as I should lately. :p  More veggies needed, I think (and it's prime time for them right now, too -- although the local farmers' market is held at an inconvenient time for us -- Saturday mornings, 9-1. Even though we're not working anymore, I still think of Saturday morning as a time to laze leisurely around the house/condo in my PJs. The market in our old community was held 10-2 on Tuesdays, which was much more better).

Wearing:  A couple of gorgeous new bracelets I just HAD to treat myself to... one silver, one made of moonstones & one denim blue lapis lazuli stones. Handcrafted by a friend of Msfitzita's. Gorgeous stuff, excellent customer service. Check it out here!  (I don't wear a lot of necklaces these days, but bracelets? The more the merrier, lol. ;) ) 

Trying:  To enjoy the summer while it lasts, even if we need to stay close to home because of FIL. 

Buying (besides books, lol):  Some new placemats, a new tablecloth & new teatowels for the kitchen (many of mine are years old, & worn thin). 

Wanting: A getaway. Soon. (But I'll likely have to wait for a while...)     

Loving:  My family.  

Anticipating/dreading:  The upcoming long weekend, and the 20th "anniversary" of our daughter's stillbirth. 

(Is it really awful to say I am secretly afraid that FIL will pass away on the same day -- not only piling more grief onto what is already the saddest day of the year for us, but overshadowing the already-too-small presence she has on this earth??) 

Feeling:  Grateful for summer (even when it get hot & humid). Sad that I'm not able to enjoy part of it with my parents (particularly since my mother tells me the mosquitos are practically non-existent there this year, lol).  Sad because of why I haven't been able to get there (FIL's failing health). Sad because FIL is not likely to be with us much longer. Sad thinking about my daughter, the 20 years (!!) she's been gone, and how different our lives would have been, if only...  

Oh Christmas tree

Dh & I bought and put up a new Christmas tree last weekend. This is the third (artificial) Christmas tree we've owned in 31 years of marriage. We didn't have a tree at all the first year we were married. Dh could probably care less whether we had a tree or not, but I cared -- a lot. ;)  Even when we went away to spend Christmas with my grandparents, my family would always put up & decorate our own Christmas tree. My parents still use some of the same ornaments they've had since THEY were first married, and I still love to bring them out & decorate the tree with them when I arrive "home" to spend the holidays with them. 

So the second year we were married, dh & I bought a small, slightly scrawny fold-up tree for $50 at Canadian Tire (it's not just for tires, lol). We had that for 12 years, then bought a new tree at Sears in 1998, the year we lost Katie. I wrote about how it became our "Katie tree," here.

After 17 years of use, the tree was still OK, but starting to look a just little ragged and tired. I was also tired of wrestling with strings of lights year after year (many of which were burning out -- we were facing investing in a whole new set of lights this year), and casting longing looks at the pre-lit trees in the stores. ;)  So when we were getting ready to move, we decided to get rid of the old tree and find something new for our new home.

That proved to be easier said than done. We shuttled back & forth between several different stores, comparing trees and finding fault with most of them. This tree looked TOO fake... that tree looked great but had flashing lights on it (I wanted steady clear ones). That tree over there was nice but WAY too expensive. We finally found a tree (again at Canadian Tire -- although for a lot more than $50 this time, lol)  that we could both live with. (Well, that *I* could live with... at that point, dh just wanted to go home, with or without the damned tree, lol.)  It's 6.5 feet, not too skinny but not too wide for the corner we wanted to put it in; a little plastic-y, perhaps, but easy to set up and glorious looking when lit up -- no light-string wrestling required! (Yes, the lights are clear, warm & steady.)

Because this tree is 6.5 feet tall versus the 7.5 feet of our old tree, I didn't have room for all the ornaments I've used in years past. For example, each year at our support group's holiday candlelighting service, attendees would be invited to take home a pair of hand-knit baby booties off the Christmas tree as a memento. Needless to say, after 10 years of attending the annual service, both as a client and as a facilitator, I'd amassed a substantial collection of booties -- and I used them ALL on my tree, year after year. Having a tree full of baby booties might seem kind of weird, but I didn't care.

This year, I decided that one pair of booties would do, versus the entire collection. ;) Likewise, I used to have enough teddy bear angels (most of them Ty Beanie Babies) to form almost a complete circle on the floor around the tree -- an honour guard of sorts, I used to think of it. ;) When we were getting ready to move, though, I had to take a good hard look at a lot of my collections of stuff -- and I decided that most of my Beanie Babies could go. I did save a few of the really special/favourite ones, though. Most of the Classic Pooh ornaments I've amassed over the years are still on the tree -- although I'm sorry to say a couple got broken or chipped while decorating.  Alas, those lovely laminate wood floors are far less forgiving than carpet. :(   (But while the new tree is smaller, all the really important ornaments are still on it!)

It seems weirdly appropriate, somehow, that we got a new tree the year we lost Katie -- a year in which everything (and nothing) changed for us -- and now, in a year in which so much changed in our lives again, that we got a new tree again.  A lot has changed in our lives this past year, these past 18 years. Change isn't easy for me, but you learn to adapt, and certainly the passage of time has helped make it easier. I didn't use all the booties or teddy bears or other ornaments that I once did. That might have been a whole lot harder, 15 years ago or 10 or maybe even 5 -- but I did it now, and the world didn't stop turning.  ;)  (It's still very much a Katie tree -- perhaps just not quite as much so as it was in years past.) Time passes, life moves along, and the unthinkable becomes, if not welcomed then OK. Traditions can evolve. (Sometimes, lol). We all come to readiness and acceptance in our own sweet time.

And I guess I had to leave off a few of the old ornaments to make room for some new ones, too. :) 



A Hallmark find. :)

The decorated tree in a corner of our condo.

Packing up my past

Getting rid of stuff in order to sell our house and move into our new condo has been tough (as I've already moaned to you in previous posts...!). But so has packing up stuff that I intend to keep, too.

The packing has already started:  when our real estate agent first came over to have a look at our house, she encouraged us to start decluttering and packing away extraneous stuff right away. We did a lot of purging when we painted the house last fall -- but I've read enough and seen enough realtor listings that I knew the drill when it comes to getting your house ready for sale: clean surfaces, no personal photos, minimal tchotchkes (sp?).

Presumably, this includes keepsakes from lost pregnancies. (ESPECIALLY keepsakes from lost pregnancies.) I knew it would be hard to get rid of and pack away my stuff, but putting away all my Katie and infertility-related stuff was harder than I thought it would be. Because I walked into my bedroom & looked around, thinking, "well, this has to go, and this, and this, and this..."  Including (but not limited to):

• Several angel figurines from different friends, on top of the piano.
• The lovely quilt square made by a former support group client, now a dear friend.
• A Classic Pooh suncatcher and stained glass angel, hanging from my mirror.
• Katie's ultrasound photo on top of my dresser, in a baby-themed photo frame with the inscription "We dreamed of you."
• A framed photo of me in my hospital bed, holding Katie, with dh & my mom at my side.
• Boyd's Bears figurines:  a pregnant mama bear and a little girl bear on her first day of school (bought the week Katie would have started Grade 1).
• The Swarovski butterly dh gave me for Christmas one year.
• A Classic Pooh music box that plays "Little Black Rain Cloud."
• A baby bracelet & "message in a bottle," both crafts made in support group sessions.
• A little green stone inscribed with "believe," which has sat on my night table for the past 17 years -- a gift from a fellow loss mom that I met when I first went online. (Caprice, if you're out there somewhere, I still have it & I still think of you!)
• A stuffed stork that's sat on the headboard of our bed for years, first as a ttc good-luck token and then (when it became apparent THAT wasn't working) as birth control (lol).

And I felt a pang when I realized I had to pack it away (if only for a little while). Not just because it's "clutter" -- but it's clutter of an extremely personal and sometimes shocking nature, for people not acquainted with pregnancy loss, who think it's a subject to be swept under the carpet.

I've never been one to talk too openly about Katie in public -- but here in my home, I've always felt safe, free to express my pride and my grief through little things, like refrigerator magnets and figurines and stuffed animals. 

So it was sad/jarring to have to let the outside world intrude on my relationship with my daughter -- to hide away any traces of her existence that might not only qualify as "clutter" but conjure up questions and visions of dark clouds hanging over this house.

It's not that I'm not proud of her, proud to be her mother. It's just that the world hasn't yet developed a comfort level in facing these kinds of things. And I wanted to sell my house. And I was going to have pack everything up anyway, sooner or later.

This was only a temporary measure, of course. I will bring out Katie's things again in the new place.

But it was sad to strip the place she never got to call home of all reminders of her brief existence.

28

"So, do you have a blog post ready to go for our anniversary?"  dh asked me a few days ago. Ummm, actually, I didn't.

And then I saw that some kind soul had posted about our anniversary on LFCA  -- so I kind of felt obligated to come up with something, lol.

Year 28 (!) has been challenging for us -- particularly the last few months, dealing with job loss/extra-early unexpected retirement. We're slowly adjusting to the new reality -- dh to his new status as househusband, me to mine as solo commuter. We know we've survived far worse crises (& if you are a regular reader of this blog, you know what they are). We got through those, and we will get through this too.

I've been off work this past week. We've been checking out caterers & party rentals, pulling weeds & cleaning up the yard. There was a heavy rain last week that left a puddle of water in our basement & mildew on the baseboards :p  -- as a result, we got the eavestroughs cleaned, some landscaping done (sloping the ground away from the wall & planting grass) and may have to look into some new drywall. :p  Dh sometimes finds handyman stuff frustrating -- but as we worked in the yard, pruning and pulling weeds, he commented that "When you're out here working with me, I feel like I get so much more accomplished." We were both amazed by how much we got done in just a few hours.

I like the picture above of Pooh & Piglet, leaning into a blustery wind, but walking on together, hand in hand. There is a stained glass ornament that hangs on our bedroom mirror of Pooh & Piglet (not the picture above, but the same idea), inscribed "It didn't matter where they went as long as they went together." I can't think of a better way to sum up what these 28 years of marriage have meant to me.

Steak dinner tonight! : )

27 (2012)
26 (2011)
My wedding
25 years (2010)
24 years (2009)
23 years (2008)

Grief's timetable

If there is one things I've learned in almost 14 years as a bereaved mother, it's that grief has its own timetable -- and mine may be quite different than yours (or yours, or yours, or yours).

Last Saturday, on impulse, I started going through my overflowing closets & armoire, weeding out some stuff to take to Goodwill. I was in a rare purging mood (normally I'm a bit of a packrat -- much to dh's despair), & I decided to strike while the iron was hot. : )

I paused when I opened one of the drawers where I keep my nightgowns. (It was almost hard to open, because it was so overstuffed.)

After Katie was stillborn, I snapped up anything & everything related to Classic Pooh (which was to have been the theme for her nursery). Classic Pooh was quite popular at the time (less so these days, it seems), and one place where I could indulge myself was the lingerie store. A couple of the lingerie chains were selling nightwear with Classic Pooh motifs, & I would buy them whenever I saw them, sometimes the same design in different colours. Over time, I amassed quite a collection.

I prefer nightgowns to PJs, and short to long. Some of the nightgowns were longsleeved, more for winter & fall; some shortsleeved or with spaghetti straps, for summer. Some were cotton T-shirt style; others cozy flannel.

I took great comfort in my Classic Pooh nighties, those first few years, their warmth enveloping me. I felt like it was a way of keeping Katie close to me.

I still wear some of them (I have a lot! & I rotate them, so they don't wear out as fast. I have other non-Pooh nightwear too).

But lately, some of them -- especially the longsleeved winter ones -- seem to be almost TOO cozy. Sweltering, even, in a way that they weren't 14 years ago. Global warming, maybe?? (Umm, yeah, that's it -- it couldn't possibly be -- cough, cough -- perimenopausal hormones, now, could it??)

Others just plain didn't fit any more. Some have shrunk. My shape has changed. I've grown out of them.

I felt a brief moment of sadness as I stroked the soft flannel one more time and fingered the Pooh motifs on them.

And then I folded them up and put them in the bag to take to Goodwill.

*** *** ***

(Just to be clear -- I still have enough Classic Pooh nightgowns to keep me cozy for many, many nights to come. And there are one or two of my favourites that I won't be parting with any time soon, even if they are getting pretty worn.)

(And also to be clear -- my maternity clothes are still in my closet. I still don't see myself giving those away anytime soon.)

That's a loaded question...

Mass e-mail from co-worker (edited to remove identifying information):

Hi Everyone!

For our Holiday Party, I am collecting your best/worst/funniest holiday memory.

The Social Committee will be using this information for a fun activity we have planned for the party.

Please try to keep it concise (a line or two at most) and email it to me privately.

If you could send it to me by EOD Friday, that would be great!

*** *** ***

OK, I'm assuming by "worst holiday memory," they are looking for worst/we-can-laugh-about-it-now stories about the time Santa left a lump of coal in your stocking, or you had one too many glasses of eggnog & woke up with a hangover -- that sort of thing.

Because, honestly -- do they REALLY want to hear people's WORST holiday memories?

I mean, let's face it, I love Christmas -- but most people's Christmases, even the best ones, rarely if ever measure up to the Norman Rockwell ideal. And I'm pretty damned sure nobody wants to hear about MY worst Christmas.

Do they REALLY want to know what it's like to be expecting a baby in November -- to have your mother exclaim, when she learns the due date, "A baby for Christmas!!" -- to dream about bringing that baby home for the holidays to her adoring grandparents & great-grandparents -- only to have that dream totally, utterly shattered when the baby is stillborn in August?

Do they REALLY want to know why you can't bear to hear or sing "Away in a Manger" anymore? (especially when, one year, the choir changed the lyrics to include the line, "A baby for Christmas...")

Do they REALLY want to know what it's like to start crying every year while you're watching the Santa Claus Parade, because it brings back memories of your pregnancy & your secret wish that you'd be able to watch the parade from the windows of the hospital (on the parade route) with your newborn daughter in your arms?

Do they REALLY want to know what it's like to go to the mall and be confronted with oodles of toys, impossibly precious holiday clothes at Baby Gap & Gymboree, and a massive lineup of adorably dressed babies & toddlers waiting to see Santa Claus, when you'd give anything to be doing the same thing with your daughter?

Do they REALLY want to know what it's like to lose your grandfather just a few weeks after losing your baby -- the grandfather you adored, secretly thought was Santa Claus, and spent every single Christmas of your life with?

Do they REALLY want to know what it's like to go to your Christmas party -- the one place where you think you're safe & looking forward to kicking back with your co-workers -- only to have the colleague who was pregnant at the same time as you were & due just a few weeks before arrive? WITH her baby girl in tow?? And then be told that not just one, not just two, but THREE other coworkers just announced their pregnancies? (See my post about the Worst. Christmas Party. Ever.) And then leave the party early & spend the next two hours sitting numbly in the train station, waiting for your husband (who is at his party -- this being pre-cellphone days), & reading the same page of your People magazine over & over again, because you keep replaying the night's events over & over again in your head and just can't focus?

Do they REALLY want to know what it's like to decorate the Christmas tree in silence & without smiles or laughter, that first Christmas?

Do they REALLY want to know what it's like, searching for the perfect ornament for the tree to memorialize your stillborn daughter?

Do they REALLY want to know why your entire Christmas tree is now covered in teddy bear angels & Classic Pooh Christmas ornaments that you've accumulated over the past 13 years (hint: the baby's nursery was to have had a Classic Pooh theme)?

Do they REALLY want to know what it's like to read the cards that your mother received from her friends (who obviously haven't heard the news), saying things like, "Congratulations! You're going to love being a grandma!" and "Being a grandmother is the best!" and "How's that grandbaby?"

Do they REALLY want to know what it's like to hear everyone around you mouthing platitudes like, "Christmas is for kids"?

Do they REALLY want to know about how awful it felt to watch your father's face crumble as he started to take the traditional "family around the dinner table" photo, set down the camera & retreated downstairs so that we couldn't see him cry?

I didn't think so.

(For the record, I sent the story about my parents giving me the stereo I had been bugging them about for years -- complete with turntable & cassette deck. It was 1981 (30 years ago, eeek), I was in third-year university and I honestly didn't expect they would ever buy me such an expensive gift (which seems so Little House on the Prairie-ish these days, when I hear about parents buying their kids iPods and iPhones and game systems and television sets and Ugg boots, & taking them to Disney World) -- you can see in the pictures that I'd been crying from shock! They hid it under a roll of carpet in the shower stall of an unfinished basement bathroom in their new house, and sent me on a treasure hunt to find it. I still have it, in my basement, along with all my vinyl albums.)

25 years: Our silver lining

Twenty-five years ago today (eek!), on a blazing hot July afternoon, in a chapel on the university campus where we had met almost four years earlier, in front of about 120 friends & relatives (mostly mine) -- after three & a half years as a couple, and much of that time spent in a long-distance relationship -- pre-Internet, relying on snail mail, weekly long distance telephone calls (expensive at the time) & occasional visits by plane & train -- I married my best friend, my soulmate, my sweetheart. : )

When you are a starry-eyed 24-year-old bride, & promise you are going to love this man standing beside you "for better or for worse," you really have no idea what those words mean. (You feel like you've already endured "the worst" just surviving a long-distance relationship until the day you could finally be together.) You have a vague idea that there will be difficult days, of course, but you are supremely confident that together, you will conquer any obstacle that life throws in your path.

Thirteen years & a month later, cradling the small bundle of blankets that cocooned our much-longed-for stillborn daughter, we knew the awful meaning of "for worse."

We had been through job uncertainty. We had lost beloved relatives, including dh's 50-year-old uncle & grandparents on both sides of our family. We had been so broke (particularly that first year) that we had to ask dh's dad for money to pay the rent, & rolled the quarters we'd been saving to use for laundry to help buy groceries. We had had arguments (mostly money & clutter-related -- spender vs saver, pack rat vs minimalist)(guess who is which?) & struggled with the demons of anxiety.

None of this had prepared us to deal with infertility & stillbirth. The next few years were a nightmare, as we struggled -- and failed -- to create the family we had always dreamed about, before our bodies, finances and nerves gave out on us. We knew that not every couple survives this rollercoaster ride.

We were lucky. It has not been easy -- but we have held on to each other. For 25 years. (Longer, if you count the time before we were married.) As that immortal philosopher Jon Bon Jovi sings (lol), "We've got each other, and that's a lot." If there is one thing that has helped us as we made the transition to childless/free living, I think it's the certainty both of us felt, right from the beginning, that we could still have a good life together, just the two of us -- because we already did. And I think it's important to know that in your bones, to truly believe that, if you are considering a childless/free life, for whatever reason.

Children would have been wonderful, of course -- the icing on the cake, the cherry on top of the sundae. There's not a single day that goes by that I don't think about Katie, about the family I dreamed of having, about the way things could have been, should have been. Not necessarily a better life, but a good life, for sure -- a different life, a family life like the one we'd both had growing up. It does make me sad, still. I think we would have been good parents.

But it just didn't work out that way. And even before we started ttc, I believed that parents needed to provide a strong foundation for that family by focusing on their marriage & on each other. I've seen too many couples become so wrapped up in their children and their children's lives that they lose sight of who their partner is & why they got together in the first place. And sometimes, by the time the kids are grown & gone and they realize what's happened, they can't find their way back to each other.

Awhile back, I posted a vent about how I felt our anniversary was being lost in the shuffle -- particularly since my parents' 50th anniversary party is in less than three weeks. (To be fair, I imagine they were thinking the same thing about my wedding interfering with THEIR 25th, lol.) We've already celebrated a wedding & our nephew's high school graduation within the past six weeks or so, and I'm going through a lot of changes at work right now. Besides Mom & Dad's party, there's a big family reunion coming up. Our summer schedule is already crammed, & our work colleagues beat us to the punch in booking vacation time, making it impossible, sadly, to take any time off around this day.

So far (at the time I'm writing this, a day before this is scheduled to auto-publish), nobody has said a word indicating they recall the significance of this date -- although I expect I will get calls &/or e-mails from my parents & sister, and possibly SIL, who is usually pretty good about remembering these things.

But it's still our anniversary. Our 25th, our silver anniversary. And that's worth celebrating.

And we are, in our own way. A couple of weekends ago, dh & I went shopping and bought the diamond anniversary ring I'd been eyeing for years. We also ordered new flatware & looked at some new stoneware to replace the stuff we got as wedding gifts 25 years ago. We're still using it, but the flatware is stained & tarnished, and the dishes are scratched & chipped -- a little worn around the edges (just like us, lol).

We thought about going somewhere this past weekend, but knew it would have to be an over Saturday night thing. And, being a long weekend of sorts in both Canada (Canada Day, July 1st) & the U.S. (4th of July), we knew it would probably be busy & hard to book something in any of our favourite local haunts (Niagara on the Lake, Stratford...).

Instead, we decided to let the dust bunnies have free rein of the house for another week, abandoned the usual Saturday housecleaning, and went into the city for the day. We went to the Royal Ontario Museum to see their special exhibit on the Terracotta Warriors from China, visited the mummies & dinosaurs while we were there, & then strolled down Bloor Street (the Rodeo Drive of Canada) to a bookstore for an hour's browse. Headed back to the 'burbs & finished the evening with a steak dinner at our favourite local restaurant.

Tonight after work, we will be having dinner downtown at an Italian restaurant in an atmospheric heritage building, attending "Rock of Ages" (an '80s musical! -- how appropriate, lol!!) and then spending the night at one of the city's grand old hotels. Later this summer or early in the fall, we hope to get away for a week or two, just the two of us -- possibly to Nova Scotia or Prince Edward Island (maybe both). (Suggestions/recommendations for places to visit, stay, eat, etc., are welcomed.)

After we lost Katie, the Classic Pooh motif that was to have been her nursery theme became a huge source of comfort to me & dh. Ten years ago, in a little gift shop at the Forks in Winnipeg, we found (& immediately scooped up) a stained glass window ornament that now hangs on the big mirror in our bedroom. It's Pooh & Piglet, looking at each other, holding hands & skipping off together (down the road less travelled?). The caption, which has become a motto of sorts for us, reads: "It didn't matter where they went, as long as they went together."

I'm still not entirely sure where we'll wind up -- but I know that, as long as we go there together, we will be fine. : )

24th anniversary (July 6, 2009)

23rd anniversary (July 6, 2008)

Scrapbooking your grief

Some of you know that -- odd as it may seem for a woman without children -- one of my favourite pasttimes & creative outlets (besides this blog, lol) is scrapbooking.

I've made scrapbooks for my parents' neighbours' daughter, my nephews, and I recently started an anniversary scrapbook for dh & me that I hope (hope!) will be finished by or around our 25th wedding anniversary next year.

I've always intended to someday (someday) make a scrapbook for Katie and chronicle our loss journey since then. I have a Rubbermaid box full of Classic Pooh papers, punches & stamps (some of them sent to me by my dear cyberfriend Julia S, some years ago) and a Classic Pooh s scrapbook album, as well as lots of butterfly-themed embellishments. But I haven't. Yet.

I just learned about a new blog that may be a good prod for me in that direction. It's focused on healing grief & loss (of all kinds) through scrapbooking.

Any other lossmama scrapbookers out there? Check it out!

Show & Tell, Part 1: Look what followed me home...

This week's Show & Tell comes in two parts. Yes, when I'm on a roll, I'm on a roll. ; ) This is Part 1. Part 2 appears just above this post, here.

My belated thanks to all of you who sent comments & good thoughts for me, dh & Katie on Aug. 5-7. We both really appreciated it.

I kept myself busy all day Friday, cleaning house (so I wouldn't have to do it on Saturday). After having my shower, I spent some quiet time going through Katie's things & re-reading my blog entries from last year that told her story. After dh got home, we ordered in Chinese (as we did when we got home from the hospital, 11 years prior). And then we went to the market, got some pink roses, and headed to the cemetery.

Afterwards, we decided to head to the local megabookstore for a Starbucks treat & a browse.

And I found THIS little guy:



A soft, fuzzy, cuddly Classic Pooh teddy bear. A whole display of them, actually, along with Classic Eeoyores and Classic Piglets, and copies of Pooh story collections (which I have).

Katie's nursery was to have been decorated in Classic Pooh -- we have a quilt, bumper pads, curtain vallance & matching wallpaper border, bought on sale at Sears in late July 1998 -- among the very few baby items that we bought during my rollercoaster pregnancy. And in the years since then, we've added to our Classic Pooh collection.

But of course, times change and baby fashions change, and Classic Pooh has fallen somewhat out of favour.

Needless to say, I simply could not resist. : ) It just seemed like fate that I would find a whole pile of Classic Pooh stuff on Katie's special day.
I wasn't quite sure what I would do with it or where I would put it when we got home. But when I walked into my bedroom, I instantly knew where Pooh should go.

I have two other (Gund) teddy bears sitting on our bed. I bought one for my annual workplace Christmas teddy bear drive some years ago. He was just so cute I couldn't resist buying a second one for myself. A few years later, I couldn't resist buying another, smaller Gund bear.

Dh once asked me if the two teddys were representative of me & him. I never really thought of it that way. I did always think of them as guardians of the house while we were away. ; ) I also didn't think of it until later, but they reminded me of Mr. Bear and Little Bear in Dare Wright's book The Lonely Doll, which I read & loved as a child, but had forgotten about, until I read an article about the author in Vanity Fair several years ago.

Anyway, the twosome is now a threesome. Maybe I AM unconsciously trying to recreate our little family??


This wasn't the first time I found comfort in the bookstore on August 7. On that day in 2004, we spent the day in much the same way, heading to the bookstore after visiting the cemetery. As I wrote in a post on a childless living board I frequent:

"... (a mocha frappucino is a great mood lifter, lol). They always play music in the store, of course, & while I was browsing, they started playing Simon & Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Water," which I have always loved & always gives me the chills. It just seemed so appropriate for the day! Then, after that song ended, they started into "Stand by Me." It just kept going: the next song after that was "Lean on Me," & then a great sort of bluesy soul song called "Have a Little Faith in Me" (VanMorrison? Joe Cocker?). And as we left the store, they were playing "I Will Remember You" by Sarah McLauchlin (sp?). I just couldn't believe it -- it was like it was tailor-made listening for me. I got teary & then I started to laugh as I listened. Whoever it was that was responsible for the playlist, thanks!!"

To see what others are showing & telling this week, hop over here.

Show & Tell: 11 years ago today...

[ETA:  Image has been removed.]

...(which was also a Sunday) I POAS -- and a second blue line immediately popped into view.

My life would never be the same again.

I told the story of that day here last year, on the 10th "anniversary" of that day. And although the story ultimately did not have a happy ending, with the stillbirth of our daughter on August 7th that year (1998), I will never forget the utter shock & giddy joy of that moment.

I thought today would be a good time to share something special from my "Katie collection." Katie's nursery theme was to have been Classic Pooh, and Classic Pooh remains dear to my heart. I still find myself buying things that have a Classic Pooh theme, although

I don't remember exactly when I got this music box, but I've had it for several years now. I spotted it at Birks, which is Canada's answer to Tiffany's -- a high-end jewelry & giftware store. It was expensive, around $100, but the moment I lay eyes on it, I knew I had to have it. I brought it to the counter, beaming, & the clerk asked, "Is it a gift? Shall I wrap it up?" "Oh no, this is for me," I said happily, & she gave me a kind of a funny look.

I keep it on top of the armoire in my bedroom, along with a framed photo of Katie with dh, my mom & me, & a few other Katie-related treasures. I wind it up & let the music play every week when I dust... (OK, whenever I dust, lol).

The box shows Pooh, Christopher Robin & Piglet watching ducks on a pond from a bridge. When you wind up the music box, the ducks go round & round under the bridge, as the song "Little Black Rain Cloud" (!!) plays.

The inscription around the bottom was, for me, the kicker: it reads: "Promise you won't forget me ever."

Katie, as long as Mommy & Daddy are here, you won't ever be forgotten. We promise. xoxo

Glow in the Woods January 7x7

Some thought-provoking, holiday-related questions from the medusas at Glow in the Woods, along with my answers. Follow the link for more answers from other readers.

1 Welcome to 2009. What have you left behind in the year just past? What do you hope to find in the year to come?

Left behind: a full decade of grief and loss and life in the aftermath of stillbirth.

Hoping to find: a greater degree of peace & serenity in my life, and a better sense of purpose as I edge closer towards my (eek) 50s.

2 We've just come through the season in which our culture touts cheer and peace and family togetherness rather relentlessly. How did your child's death impact your experience of the "holiday" season, personally or culturally?

Katie's stillbirth was followed closely by the death of my grandfather, who was the personification of family Christmases for me. So the loss of the Christmases I had envisioned in the future became intertwined with the loss of the Christmases I had always known. In the gap between, a sort of hybrid celebration has sprung up... I cling to those memories of Christmases past, and there's enough surviving elements to be able to carry on as we always have, mingled with melancholy & longing for what once was and what will never be, again or ever.

3 If you celebrate in any way through December, are there ways you include or acknowledge your lost baby/babies?

Katie is ever-present for us during the holiday season. Her due date was in late November, and I've written before about how I had fantasized about watching the Toronto Santa Claus Parade from the hospital window with a baby in my arms. So I can never watch the parade now without that picture in my mind.

We attend our support group's annual candlelighting service.

We decorate Katie's niche at the cemetery.

I usually manage to work in a reference to Katie in our annual holiday letter, and our Christmas card usually features something Katie-related (Classic Pooh, angels, etc.).

Our tree is covered in teddy bear angels, Classic Pooh ornaments, and hand-knit baby booties, in tribute to our little girl.

4 Through the year are there any holidays, seasons, or parts of what were once cherished rituals that have changed for you because of your child's death?

All of them. At GITW, Niobe said, "On almost every holiday and holy day, I realize how alone I truly am" and I thought, "Yes!!" I always find myself bristling at the suggestion that "Christmas is for kids," etc. -- and yet, I have to admit, there is some truth to it. Dh & I often find ourselves very much alone on most holidays during the year. Christmas we do spend with my family, but they live far away, & his brother & father are often busy with inlaws and stepfamilies. So for Easter, Thanksgiving, etc., we are often at loose ends. While the moms I know bustle around & chatter about colouring Easter eggs & designing Halloween costumes, I remain silent. I had looked forward to doing these things with my children... and dh & I do some traditional things (e.g., we always carve a Halloween pumpkin), but they aren't vested with quite the same anticipation or enthusiasm as they would be if we had a 10-year-old around.

5 Do you do anything to remember your baby/babies' birth and/or death day? Or will you?

We have several rituals we usually carry out for August 7th. In most years past, I have published an "In Memoriam" in the local newspaper (although I'm debating whether I'll do it every year, now that 10 years have passed). We make a donation to our pregnancy loss support group. I take the day off work, if it's a work day, and go through Katie's box of things. We take pink roses to the cemetery. And we order in Chinese food for dinner, in remembrance of what we did the night we arrived home from the hospital.

6 Is there anything about the winter season (for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere right now) that lifts your spirits? Is there anything that especially brings them down?

I grew up on the Canadian Prairies, so Christmas (or my birthday) doesn't seem quite the same without snow (lots of snow!) around. Those first few snowfalls can be magical. And I love Christmas -- the music, the lights, the decorations, the party clothes, the traditions (the food!!), the generosity.

But -- while I can enjoy, or at least put up with winter, over Christmas and through my birthday season, by February, I've had enough. The Toronto area can be kind of grey & slushy during the winter, which I find terribly depressing. I get lots of jokes about my home province & how cold it is, but, honestly? I often find it preferable. Back "home," the sun is usually shining (even if it IS minus 30C outside -- without the windchill factored in...!), & (outside the city, at least) things are white and sparkly, and the snow crunches underfoot -- a sound I miss.

Also, while I love Christmas -- the IDEA of Christmas -- the reality is (a) linked so closely to my daughter, it can't help but be tinged with some sadness, and (b) it's year-end at work, so I don't usually have the time to enjoy it and take everything in the way I would like to. Sigh.

7 During your hardest times, how have you found your way forward?

By leaning on my dh. And on my friends, especially those I've made through my IRL support group and online forums. By writing. By being really good to myself. By taking yoga classes (helps me keep the anxiety at bay... sometimes...!). By realizing that many women have trod this path before me, and eventually, I will find my own way too. By realizing that I am a person of value and worth, no matter what my reproductive capabilities (& if others can't see that, well then, too darned bad). And that I am a mother, just not to a child here on this earth.

The rest of August 1998: Aftermath

Dh went to church the morning after we got home from the hospital (Sunday, August 9th). I wasn't up to it, but he, Mom & I went the following Sunday (August 16th). I was jolted when the parishoners were asked to pray for those who had died, including "Baby Kathleen," in the intercessions. Later, we had barely arrived home, when one of the parishoners arrived at our door with the flowers from the altar, & saying they were sorry for our loss.

Later on the afternoon of the 9th, FIL & stepMIL arrived, with Mom's suitcase. FIL had been so happy about this pregnancy. He would greet me by patting my belly and, with a huge grin, ask "How's my baby??" As he came up the steps now, with an expression of sorrow on his face, I put my arms around him & started sobbing again.

We also picked up the wallpaper border we had ordered from Sears. I put it, unopened, into the closet. It remained unopened for five years. I joked that they had probably gotten the order wrong. I decided to finally open it on the five-year "anniversary" date. It was the right one. ; )

Flowers were starting to arrive. The very first bouquet -- a dozen pink roses in a vase, from my godmother (my mother's closest cousin) -- had actually been delivered next door while we were still at the hospital. The neighbours, who had just moved in that February, and whom we barely knew, then sent us a bouquet of their own. I called my laywer/college roommate girlfriend -- Dr. Ob-gyn had delivered her son -- to tell her what had happened, and she also sent a beautiful bouquet of all-white flowers.

One day, a florist's truck stopped, and the delivery guy carried an absolutely humungous bouquet. "Only a bunch of guys could send something so big & ugly," dh said (meaning the guys he worked with!) and he was right! I didn't think it was that ugly, but trust a bunch of guys to go for the big gesture. ; )

One day, early on, a courier truck pulled up & handed me a big brown package from my office. I couldn't believe it -- they were sending me work??? Then I opened the package. Knowing my love of reading (& that I'd probably be off work for awhile), they had chipped in & sent me a selection of books instead of flowers. I was touched. The only thing that bothered me was the card was simply signed with the name of my department, instead of having everyone add their signature & message, as I knew I had done with other sympathy cards, when people's parents had passed away. It was as if nobody knew what to say in this situation, so they went for a generic signature.

The calls continued to flow in. My aunts & uncles called, as well as dh's. Cards & notes started arriving too. The very first one I received was from the secretary to the CEO of the bank I worked for. She had previously worked as the secretary to an executive whose office was adjacent to my department, so all of us knew her, & someone must have told her. To say I was touched is an understatement. I also received a card from the HR vice-president I had been working with on a project just before I left, and from a member of my lunch hour Toastmasters club. All totally unexpected.

The mother of my three best friends from childhood -- sisters who lived across the street from us -- called. Her youngest daughter had had a twin, stillborn at birth. Back in the early 1960s, it was not common to see your dead baby, but another neighbour had encouraged her to do so, and she spoke about how glad she was that she had. I knew that my friend had had a twin -- had visited her grave in the local cemetery -- but had never heard her mother speak about the experience. A few days later, the middle daughter (the one closest in age to me, now the mother of two adopted children) called. At first I didn't recognize her voice, but when I realized who it was, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I knew she would listen to me, just as she had during so many late-night slumber parties growing up, and she did. "Oh, it's so SAD!!" I sobbed into the phone.

And I started encountering people I knew who had to be told what had happened. My mom needed a trim, so I made her an appointment with my hairdresser at the mall. As we walked in, she started to exclaim over my belly, which was larger than when she'd last seen me -- but I sadly shook my head & told her what had happened, and her expression changed to one of shock and then sadness. She told me she had had a miscarriage at five months, a few years before her daughter was born. She took an unusually long time at the end of the appointment, spraying & teasing my mother's hair -- until the shampoo girl arrived, bearing a bouquet of flowers for me. She'd slipped her some money & stalled until she brought them back.

On Monday, August 10th, the assistant curate from our church came to visit us. Reverend E. was a good-humoured woman around the same age as dh & myself. We talked about what had happened, about how she had become a minister, and what sort of a service we would like to have. I can't remember exactly when we decided on the date, but we eventually setttled on Wednesday, August 19th, which would give time for my father to arrive.

On Tuesday, August 11th, we went to a local funeral home to make arrangements. We had decided to have her cremated. The man we talked to spoke very softly and kept referring to "Kathleen." That was her proper name, but to us, she was "Katie," & it felt very weird to hear her referred to in that way. He asked whether we would like to see her again (we said no -- now, of course, I wish we had). Would we like her dressed in a specific outfit or wrapped in a special blanket? We said no. I had nothing to dress her in (what would fit a baby so small, anyway?). I was not about to give up the little white crocheted outfit the hospital had given us either -- I had so little that was HERS.

Then it was time to pick out a container. He asked whether we'd like to go downstairs to where they kept the caskets & urns. I paused and looked at my mother, & she asked whether they could bring some urns up for us to look at. So they did. I remember one that was shaped like a fish!! OK, fine, if you're a big hunter/fisherman, but...!!?? My mother cleared her throat and said, "Umm, don't you have anything that would be more suitable for a baby??" They finally brought up a pink marble urn. I knew it would probably be way too large for the few ashes that our 4 oz. daughter would amount to, but it seemed the best choice. He asked whether we'd like anything engraved on it. I asked for an angel, and her name & the date. I also asked whether the urn would be tightly sealed, and he assured me it would be. I had nightmarish visions of every sitcom I'd ever seen where Aunt Gertrude's ashes got spilled all over the living room & then vacuumed up.

As for where to put the ashes, they directed us to a cemetery a few miles up the road. Cremation did not bother me; having my daughter's ashes flung to the four winds, with no marker to show that she existed, did. The genealogist in me appreciates cemeteries & having graves to visit. ; )

The funeral home called ahead, & a "counsellor" (salesman) was waiting for us when we got there. He pumped our hands & said, "My condolences," in a matter of fact way. I had the bizarre sense that I was talking to a used car salesman. He showed us some of the options. First, there was a section of the cemetery known as "The Garden of Angels," specifically reserved for infants. Dh & I looked at each other. It just seemed way too sad a place to put our daughter.

There was also a section of plots, close together, specifically for cremation urns and, close to that, a cluster of columbaria (sp?) -- granite walls with niches to hold up to two urns each. This was where we decided Katie's ashes would rest. The cemetery was relatively new, but located along a ravine, and full of trees. Dh & I knew it would be a beautiful place to come visit our daughter.

We went back to the office to deal with the paperwork and to receive our FREE estate planning booklet -- as many as we'd like! Take one more for your friends & family!! The salesman pumped our hands again as we left. Once we were safely in the car, we all looked at each other & burst out laughing. What a totally bizarre experience. Then I my gasps of laughter turned to sobs. My mother reached up from the back seat & patted my shoulder. "What an awful, awful thing to have to do," she said -- meaning having to make funeral arrangements for your baby. Thank you, Mom. (He was still there when we went back recently to purchase a niche for ourselves!!)

My dad finally arrived -- as originally planned, pre-loss -- on Tuesday, August 18th. The night before, I remember sitting quietly at the dinner table, and my mother asking if something was bothering me about my father coming, because I was so silent. I started crying & whispered, "It wasn't supposed to be this way."

Katie's funeral was at 2 o'clock the day after Dad arrived, Wednesday, August 19th, at the beautiful little Anglican church dh & I attended. I wore one of my maternity dresses (navy gingham, small check). It was just me, dh, my mom & dad, FIL & stepMIL, BIL, SIL & our two nephews, then aged 6 & 9. The funeral home had offered to send a limousine, but we said we'd drive ourselves. (I've always wanted to ride in a limo -- but that wasn't quite the way I had pictured it...)

We walked into the church. The pink marble urn we had selected was sitting in the middle of a pedestal, with a wreath of pink roses surrounding it, and two sprays of pink and white flowers on either side (which we left for the church to use at the next service or to take to a shut-in). There were two large bouquets on the organ nearby, sent by dh's partner at work (who had lost a little girl five years earlier) & an associate he had never met but spoke with on the phone nearly every day. I walked up to the urn, fingered it & admired the flowers. The engraving of the little angel, name & date, was perfect. "It's beautiful, thank you," I said to the funeral director.

I heard one of our nephews whisper to his mom, "The baby's in there??" I think they envisioned us stuffing the body inside, lol. I watched them during the service. The younger one's feet barely touched the floor, & he swung them back and forth. I thought how awful it was for someone so little to learn about death in this way.

The service was very short. We sat in a semi-circle of chairs near the front, near the urn. A few readings, a few prayers, a few words from Rev. E. Then it was time to make the trip to the cemetery. I remember dh carrying the urn out of the church. We may have taken it in the car with us, but I don't remember.

At the cemetery, the niche was open. Rev. E said a few more prayers, & dh put the urn inside. Then he reached into his pocket & pulled out a toddler's board book, and put it into the niche beside the urn." It was Classic Pooh, in keeping with the theme of her nursery: "Pooh and Some Bees." "After all, he said to me when he bought it a few days earlier, "she would have grown up in a house full of books." I slipped in a letter in a sealed envelope that I had written a half-hour before we left. The funeral director handed each of us a pink rose, broken off the wreath that had surrounded the urn at the church, and each of us placed one inside.

My dad's shoulders heaved with sobs, which broke my heart.

Rev. E hugged me. "I'll stay and watch them close up. You go on back to the house, I'll come later."

Back at the house, we had a couple of sandwich and veggie trays we had ordered, and some angel food cake with berries. Our nephews wrestled for the Nintendo controls while the adults chatted. A sense of semi-normalcy once again prevailed. We went out for dinner that night, too tired to cook.

Not one to sit around the house, my dad immediately started in on a few projects: painting the backyard shed and putting up new wallpaper in our bathroom. To thank my parents, we decided to take them on an overnight jaunt about a 60-90 minute drive away, where a native band had recently opened a new casino. My parents love casinos. Dh hates them, & was in a sulky mood the whole trip. We argued in our hotel room. I felt like I was living in a nightmare. In retrospect, a family excursion to such a frivolous place that he didn't appreciate at the best of times probably wasn't the best idea when we were both newly grieving.

Back home, our parish priest, recently returned from the conference in England, dropped by to visit, as did cousin/neighbour & family, recently returned from spending several weeks with the wife's sister and her new baby boy, born the day after I delivered.

Mom & Dad left to return home, as originally planned, on Friday, August 28th. I plunged into writing thank you notes to everyone who had sent us flowers & cards, or helped us in some way over the past month. It was therapeutic to be able to write the words, "our daughter."

On Monday, August 31st, dh returned to work. I was on my own.

July 1998: Riding the rollercoaster (long)

On the morning of Friday, July 3rd, I had another ultrasound (my third) at the hospital where Dr. Geneticist practiced. Dh came along but was told he couldn't come into the room with me. "He can come in at the end," the u/s tech said. At the end of the examination, he told me to clean up & wait outside. What? What about my husband? (What about my picture??) I joined dh in the waiting room with a "I dunno either" roll of my eyes.

After the ultrasound, we went to Dr. Geneticist's office. The baby was still small -- measuring at 15.6 weeks (I was then on day 146 of my pregnancy) -- and had not grown much since my last ultrasound 10 days earlier. But the baby was active & kicking (although I couldn't always feel it). We were told there was really nothing we could do at this point except wait for the amnio results.

Dh's family came over on Sunday, July 5th. The previous day, they had been at SIL's company picnic. Our nephews, then aged 9 & not quite 6, had received small stuffed toys -- which they handed to me with shining faces, saying they were for the baby. No doubt this gesture was prompted by their parents ; ) but they took obvious pleasure in giving something to their little cousin-to-be, & to say I was touched is an understatement. They are in Katie's keepsake box, along with our other few treasures.

Monday, July 6th: our 13th wedding anniversary. Yep, lucky 13. Right. I went shopping that day at lunchtime with the other pg woman in the office (due a month before me in October) at an upscale maternity wear shop near our office (I came away with a pretty dress and one of my favourite maternity blouses). I remember it as a fun outing, & I enjoyed having another pregnant woman to compare notes with.

But I was not feeling at all well that day, and worse as the day progressed. I had an upset stomach, made several trips to the bathroom, & noted a touch of diarrhea in the afternoon. I had a headache for most of the day, & my left eye was twitching on & off.

Dh & I had planned to go out for Chinese food for supper that night to celebrate our anniversary. He met me downstairs as usual around 4:30 with a big smile, but his expression changed when he saw me. I asked whether he'd mind waiting to go out for dinner another night, as I really wasn't feeling well.

By the time we got home, my headache had developed into a full-blown, pounding migraine. I've only ever had a few in my lifetime, thank God. For me, getting a migraine means I have to lay down in our bedroom, very still, in complete darkness. Normally I would take some Tylenol, but being pregnant, didn't want to do that.

Dh called Dr. Ob-gyn's number & got the number for the dr on call, who turned out to be a member of the high-risk pregnancy team. He described my migraine symptoms & added that we were having a difficult pregnancy. I believe the dr said I could take a Tylenol, but I don't remember if I did. My notes say I eventually threw up twice (the only time I vomited during the entire pregnancy), after which I finally started feeling better.

I called in sick the next morning (cancelled a meeting I had with a VP in HR) & so did dh, determined not to leave me alone. I also called Dr. Ob-gyn's office, & went to see him the next morning for my scheduled five-month checkup (Wednesday, July 8). He had a little trouble finding the baby's heartbeat at first, but eventually found it. He was off on vacation the following week, & said that Dr. Geneticist would be our contact while he was gone. My next appointment with him would be for my regular six-month checkup on Wednesday, August 5th.

Friday, July 10th, I called our travel agent to cancel our flights. We were supposed to have left on vacation to see my family the following day. Dh went golfing with some of his cousins instead. What a weird feeling to spend the whole day thinking "We should be going to the airport right now... we should be on the plane right now... right now, we'd be home and having one of Dad's delicious steak dinners." (We went to the Chinese restaurant on Saturday night for a belated anniversary dinner instead.)

My parents decided that if we couldn't come to them, they would come to see us. Monday, July 13th, I asked my boss about taking two weeks of my holidays during the weeks of Aug. 10th & 17th, & she agreed. I was looking forward to having my parents come. My mom had come to visit us just about every year during her spring break, but my dad hadn't come since we moved into our house 8 years earlier. I had only one photo of myself pregnant (taken just after we found out, so no tummy visible), & I planned to ask my mom to take some photos of me modelling my maternity clothes. She could then take the photos home with her to show my grandparents.

Later that day, we were back at the hospital across the street where Dr. Geneticist had his office, having another ultrasound (#4, 10 days after the last one). Once again, dh came along; once again, they never called him into the room, and once again, no pictures. I realized this was serious business & not a photo shoot, but how much more effort would it have taken to freeze one frame & print it off for me??

The baby was still measuring small, although there had been some growth (now measuring 17 weeks). The head was measuring larger than the body. As in previous ultrasounds, the amniotic fluid was still on the low side, there was particulate matter in it, and there was still an echogenic bowel. The technician noted that the baby was growing in the left horn of my bicornuate uterus, the placenta was in the right, and the umbilical cord was running in between.

The tech kept saying she thought the heart looked "large in the chest" & had "thick walls." She called in a radiologist to have a look. This sounded frightening. I emerged from the room without dh being called in & without pictures, but with a sheet of notes for Dr. Geneticist. Of course I read what it said, & while I didn't understand all the medical terminology, the words "suspected trisomy 13" and "anencephaly" leaped off the page & burned themselves into my brain.

Dr. Geneticist was reassuring as always. Our bloodwork was back, & ruled out infections & cystic fibrosis. The amnio results might be back as soon as the next day. He explained that head/brain always developed faster than the rest of the body -- it was the body's way of protecting the brain. Although the clot on the placenta might be obstructing the baby's growth, any nutrients the baby was getting would be directed to the brain first. That made sense.

As for the heart, he arranged for us to get a fetal echocardiogram done the following day at the world-famous Hospital for Sick Children, just down the street (yet another hospital, yet another hospital card to add to my collection...!). We had left the office at noon for a 12:45 ultrasound; by the time we left Dr. Geneticist's office, it was 4 p.m., & we headed straight for the train station.

The next morning, Tuesday, July 14th, I had my rescheduled meeting the the VP from HR -- a very lovely woman who asked me how I was feeling & congratulated me on my pregnancy and asked when I was due, etc.

That afternoon was our fetal echocardiogram at "Sick Kids," as it's known locally. The appointment was for 12:30; we left the office at noon, went to Dr. Geneticist's office again after our appointment, & left at 5 (another long day). The echocardiogram was in an older part of the hospital that was a rabbit warren of dark, dingy hallways, with some very sick-looking young patients in the waiting areas. Dh said it broke his heart to see them.

The echocardiogram was more or less like a regular ultrasound. The nurse said the baby was turned in such a way that she wasn't able to get a clear picture of everything she needed, so after awhile, I was sent out to walk the hallways, jiggling my tummy in an effort to get the baby to change position. After she was done, the head cardiologist arrived to have a look. The two of them gazed at the screen intensely & kept watching one segment of tape over & over again. I tried to figure out what they were looking at & what they were talking about, but it was over my head. Eventually, the dr spoke briefly with us. All I remember him saying was that the structure of the heart looked fine, but the circulation was "very poor," likely because of the placental problems. (I seized on the part about the structure of the heart looking fine.)

The next day, I called Dr. Geneticist's office again & spoke to his secretary. It was now 19 days -- 19 days!! -- since I'd had the amniocentisis, & the stress of not knowing was killing me. Sorry, she told me, nothing yet. Dr. Geneticist himself called me the following day (Thursday, July 16th). He said the lab technicians were having trouble cultivating the necessary cells, and said there wouldn't be anything to report until at least Monday now (!). He was going to be away next week, until the 29th; however, I could call his office to see if the results had come in, and Dr. Ob-gyn would be back Monday to oversee my care again.

It had been a horribly hot, hazy & smoggy week. That afternoon, we had a torrential downpour downtown, with black skies, violent thunder & lightning, & reports of tornado sightings north of the city. When we arrived home that night, there were leaves & branches strewn all over the roads.

We walked into the house. I'm not sure exactly what caught my eye, but I found myself looking down the stairs in the entryway that led into the basement. There was a landing partway down, & a side door to a sunken entrance to the outside. The mat in front of the door was dark. With water. There were pools of water. Everywhere.

"Oh my gosh!" I said. I headed down the stairs & into our partially finished basement. We'd had minor leaks in the walls & around the windows before, little trickles of water after a particularly heavy rain -- but there was water, EVERYWHERE. Not deep water (thank God for that!), but puddles & rivers of it all over the place. From the path the water seemed to have taken, I figured that it had rained so hard in such a short period of time (a mini-tornado, or microburst, we later heard) that the water had overflowed the door jamb to the sunken side entrance & cascaded down the basement stairs. The usual leaky spots in the walls were also leaking. Some of the boxes sitting on the floor were soaked.

Dh totally lost it & started yelling (his usual response to stress). I started crying (my usual response to stress). Then he started crying too. A perfect end to a perfect day. :( He forbade me to touch anything. I don't think he'd ever touched a mop in his life before, but he started trying to mop up all the water, while I pointed out the spots he'd missed. It was just too, too much stress to handle, all of it. (Not counting the very end of it) this was the absolute low spot of my rollercoaster pregnancy. We went to bed, totally exhausted.

Sunday, July 19th, we went to see "The Mask of Zorro" with Antonio Banderas, Anthony Hopkins, & a stunningly beautiful young woman in one of her first major film roles, named Catherine Zeta-Jones. I remember having to go to the washroom in the middle of the movie. That hadn't happened since I was a little kid. Every time I see that movie now on TV (and I do love it!), I think about being pregnant.

Monday, July 20th, I called & left a message at Dr. Geneticist's office -- any news from the amnio yet? I could not focus on my work. I jumped every time the phone rang that day. I kept checking my voice mail at home every hour too, to see if they'd left a message there instead. It was now 24 days -- 3.5 weeks -- since I'd had the test done. I decided to call back around 4 p.m. & left another message, saying they could reach me at the office until 4:30 p.m.

Shortly afterward, I got a call from a woman in his office. "The chromosomes are normal," she said.

What? Normal?? Normal??? "Oh my God," I said, starting to cry. I remember saying to her, "Not that it matters... but can you tell me if it's a boy or a girl?"

"It's a girl," she said. A girl!! Dh & I had always wanted a little girl. Of course, the official line was "anything so long as it's healthy," but we had secretly wanted a little girl for as long as we had talked about having a family.

She added that they would still want to follow me closely, and that there would be more ultrasounds to come, but since Dr. Ob-gyn was back in his office next week, he'd take things from here.

I sobbed. I thanked her tearfully. I got off the phone. My officemate/best friend was there, witness to the whole scene in our shared office space. She gave me a huge hug & wiped her own eyes. "Call your dh & tell him the good news," she whispered. I did. He was ecstatic. When we got home that night, he called his dad & brother. Then I called cousin/neighbour's wife, my mom, & my sister. When I told my cynical, childless-by-choice & not easily excited sister that she was going to have a niece, she started chanting exuberantly: "Pink! Pink! Pink!" I got a huge kick out of that.

Everything was going to be all right. My baby was normal, normal!! And she was the little GIRL I'd always dreamed about. Oh sure, she was on the small side. From what I had been reading about IUGR, I might have to be delivered early. But that was OK -- wasn't that what NICUs were for? The doctors would take care of her -- they were performing miracles with preemies these days, & I was at one of the best (perhaps the very best) high-risk maternity hospitals in the country. I had such faith that all was going to be well after all.

We had had her name picked out for almost as long as we'd been married: Katie. For some reason, even though we'd postponed pregnancy for the first 10 years of our marriage, dh & I always knew we wanted a little girl, and her name had always been Katie. We'd talked about "Katie" & "when Katie is here" for so long. She was a real person to us, long before we ever actually started trying to conceive.

We picked Katie because we just liked the name for a little girl (it had also been my paternal grandmother's name). Dh had wanted Kaitlyn, with Katie for short, but I said no way -- Kaitlyn (in all its various spellings) was a hugely popular name and I didn't want her to be one of 20 in the schoolyard. Katherine seemed a little severe for a little girl. I suggested Kathleen, which was a little less common, as well as a family name on my maternal grandfather's side of the family (I knew he'd get a kick out of that).

I actually told dh that if he really wanted, we could call her Maria, after his mother. That would have been within Italian tradition. It certainly would have tickled his father to no end. And I liked the name (albeit not as much as Katie). Dh said no, she had always been Katie, & Katie she would stay. We agreed that Maria would be her middle name. So Kathleen Maria it was. (For awhile, she was actually Kathleen Maria Amanda, another family name I liked, but after she was born, we decided to "save" Amanda for a possible future daughter.) (Had she been a boy, her name would have been Michael Vincent Neill -- Michael because I liked the name, Vincent for FIL & Neill for my beloved grandfather.)

I figured (optimistic me) that was probably the last we'd be seeing of Dr. Geneticist, so I sent him a card, thanking him for everything he'd done for us. He was a fabulous dr & a huge comfort to us during an enormously stressful time. (I've since met other women who consulted with him during their own turbulent pregnancies, & they agree!)

Saturday, July 25th, dh went golfing with a few of his cousins early in the morning. In the afternoon, we went out shopping. Specifically, we went to look at stuff for the baby. It felt like such a monumental step but, having gotten the all-clear with the amnio, we now felt more confident about tackling such matters. It was hard to believe that the baby was going to be here in just three months, and we'd done very little in the way of preparations. I made a mental note to ask Dr. Ob-gyn about prenatal classes at my next visit.

I believe this was the day we went to Sears at the local mall. I had been mulling over nursery theme choices in my mind -- thought about Beatrix Potter, but it was hard to find. Classic Pooh (NOT the cartoony Disney Pooh) was also high on the list. When we went to Sears & found the Classic Pooh bedding set on sale, that clinched it -- we bought the whole thing, & ordered the matching wallpaper border (which did not arrive until after the funeral).

We drove to an area of the city which had several baby furniture outlets within several blocks, & checked them all out. We weren't intending to buy anything that day, just get a feel for costs & what we liked, etc. We planned to return in another week or two with BIL & SIL. FIL had announced he was going to pay for the crib, & BIL & SIL wanted to buy the matching chest of drawers/change table of whatever set of furniture we picked out. It was fun to finally be doing some of these things that we'd waited so long to do, just like every other expectant couple.

Later that evening, we went over to cousin/neighbour's house, where another cousin & her husband were visiting. We all sat on the deck, enjoying the summer weather. I remember I was wearing white maternity shorts & a simple red maternity T-shirt, very summery. She hadn't seen me in months, & exclaimed about how good I looked & how big I was.

At some point around this time, cousin/neighbour's wife told me that she & her sister-in-law (dh's cousin) wanted to give me a baby shower -- just the aunts & cousins on dh's mom's side of the family. Was I going to register somewhere? Did I have a nursery theme in mind? Yikes! I hadn't given any of these matters much thought (being otherwise preoccupied). Once the amnio came back clear, I gave the go-ahead for the shower. I decided not to register, but told her that night that we'd selected the Classic Pooh theme & told her what we'd already bought. She showed me the new, colourful plastic patio plates & glassware she'd bought & planned to use for the shower, which was scheduled for Saturday, September 5th, on the Labour Day long weekend. She asked me for my mother & sister's addresses -- even though they wouldn't be able to come, she thought they should get invitations, & I told her they would appreciate that. A copy of the invitation arrived in the mail for me on Monday, July 27th. On the back, she'd attached a sticky note with a message that read, "We love you, Baby Katie! We can't wait to meet you!" signed with a smiley face.

I have notes in my datebook that indicate I was feeling very tired & crampy that day, but feeling the baby move, especially after meals. I hadn't noted movement too much in my notes before this, but I have lots of jottings that week about "baby very active after dinner," etc. I never felt anything resembling a kick, and nothing that dh could feel, but delicate little flutters. I reasoned that because she was smaller than most babies her gestational age, she couldn't kick as hard, & was not too concerned.

I remember this as a happy time in the pregnancy -- the calm after the storm (& before the next storm). I had heard that you should read aloud to your baby in utero, that they could recognize the sound of your voice & the cadence of the story. I started sitting on the couch or propped up with pillows in bed, reading Laura Ingalls Wilder's "Little House in the Big Woods" aloud. (I had the entire boxed set of the series, which I had loved as a child & purchased with my own children in mind. I got about 1/3 of the way into the book. I recently checked to see if the bookmark was still there, but it wasn't.) One night, dh heard my voice & came upstairs & stood in the bedroom doorway. I smiled up at him but continued reading, with my hand on my belly, & he smiled back at me. He generally describes my pregnancy as "six months of hell," but says that's one of his favourite memories of that time.

Friday, July 31st, I noted that we were very busy at work, & I was very tired. The baby was somewhat active, & my stomach was feeling sore for some reason. I said goodbye to my officemate/coworker, who was off on vacation for the next week. The next time I saw her would not be at the office.