Friday, 30 May 2014

Nothing Compares

It has been a little while since I've written and I can honestly say that I've missed it a lot. Derek and I have been on vacation and I've been a little preoccupied.

This trip truly has been a blessing. It is the trip I've always dreamed of. We flew into San Diego stayed there for two days,  drove up to LA for three days,  and made the long drive up the coast to San Francisco where we have spent the last four days. We have done some really fun things including the San Diego zoo, visiting many beaches, going to Universal Studios, shopping, visiting Alcatraz,  seeing a baseball game (although I'm really not a fan), and eating some really delicious food. While all of these things have been great, the best part has been having fun and laughing again with Derek. I love the way that man can make me laugh.

It has been such a needed and refreshing time away, but there have definitely been difficult moments. Going to the zoo was much harder than anticipated. There were families with small infants everywhere.  We also celebrated our second wedding anniversary on Monday. It was fun to celebrate (especially in California), and Derek was very sweet and took me shopping and to a beach to make the day extra special for me. If you know Derek at all, you understsnd how much he must love me to spend time on our anniversary shopping and tanning. I am so thankful for him. But the day was still difficult. Many times I thought that we should be tending to the needs of a seven week old baby girl, not laying on a beach in Santa Monica.

Seeing families with small children on this trip has also been really hard. I often found myself wondering if we will ever be lucky enough to be *that* family with small children on vacation. I desperately long for that to be us one day.

It also seems that 2014 is the year of baby girls. Every family with young infants seemed to have girls. At first I thought that maybe I was just noticing girls more often, but trust me - I notice every single baby that we walk past. What has been the most surprising though,  is the amount of people who have the same stroller system we have. It must be a really popular brand in the States because everyone and their brother seem to have it. I often found myself with a very envious heart,  that desperately longs to be pushing Brooklyn in her stroller and placing her in her car seat. I should be that mama feeding her baby on a bench by the water, and fixing her cute little headband that is falling off her perfect (not so little) head...

I was worried being so far from home would make me feel even further away from Brooklyn, but I have often felt her near. I feel her in the breeze,  see her in the beautiful purple trees and plants that stick out in the greenery of California, and have even smelled her from time to time. I know that wherever we are, she is always close by.

This trip has been amazing for Derek and I. We have been so blessed by this opportunity.  But in an instant I would give up all beauty the West coast has to offer, and all the fun we have had,  if we could just have our sweet baby girl back. Nothing compares to her beauty and the way she felt in my arms.


Monday, 19 May 2014

6 in 1000

*Disclaimer: This post has very real and raw statistics about pregnancy loss. Please do not read if you are not comfortable knowing, or are pregnant and it will make you more anxious than we mums already get during pregnancy*


I have always been a "doer" by nature. When there is a problem, the first thing I think of is "how can I do something to make this better?" Even if I am just sitting around the house watching TV, I prefer to be folding laundry at the same time so that I still feel like I'm being productive. It is a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I am just that - productive, I tend to get things done. But a curse because I have never truly learned how to be still, and be okay with it.

I am having to learn to be still since losing Brooklyn. This is the first thing that has happened in my life that I have not been able to "fix". When life hasn't gone the way I planned in the past, I simply made a new plan and worked with it. When I didn't get into the Social Work program the first time I applied, I came up with a plan B for my education. I learn to work around things that don't go as planned.

But not this. There is nothing I can do to "work around" what has happened. There is no "plan B" option. Yes, if we choose to, we can try to get pregnant again. But this will not "fix" what has happened, or make us feel better. We will always miss our precious little girl. No matter if we have no more children, or 5 more. None of them will be Brooklyn, and no one will be able to replace her or the hole in our hearts that longs for her. 

Something else I am learning since losing Brooklyn, is that I can not put as much trust or faith in science as I have in the past. I have done lots of research over the past weeks, and the statistics are crazy to me. 

I have learned that 1 in 5 pregnancies will end in early miscarriage (before 20 weeks of pregnancy). At the same time, there are 6 stillborn babies in every 1000 births. That's approximately 1 baby lost for every 167 born. These statistics are directly from StatsCAN. This does not include third world countries where we expect things like this to happen more frequently. This is Canada. When we were in the hospital, the nurse told us that they had delivered 6 stillborn babies in the past 8 weeks alone. This is just at McMaster. These numbers are outrageous to me. In a society where science is the answer, how can this many babies still be lost? 

Even more shocking, is the fact that there often aren't answers as to why women lose their children in utero.  50% of parents whose children are born still, never find out what happened or why. 

We opted against a full autopsy of Brooklyn. I knew she had gone to Heaven already, and would not feel pain, but the thought of her tiny body having to endure that made me feel sick to my stomach. Instead they did scans and tests on her which were less invasive. They also took lots of blood (20 viles) from me, in hopes of finding an answer. The last thing they did was take the umbilical cord and placenta to see if there were problems with them. When I gave birth to Brooklyn, both the OBGYNs and the midwife looked at them both and could not physically see anything wrong. No obvious knots were in the cord, and she did not come out with it around her neck. At the same time, my placenta looked normal, was in one piece, and had no sign of tearing on it. 

We have received results back from my testing, and everything was negative. I did not have an infection or autoimmune disease, my organs are in good working order, and I do not have some weird blood-clotting disorder causing this to happen. This is good news. 

We still need to wait 3-5 months now for the rest of the results, but I am not expecting answers. Even the doctors did not seem hopeful that we would even end up finding out what happened. 

Long story short - how in a world where we rely so strongly on our medical system and science to answer the "unknowns", can we be okay with not knowing? I have learned that even science does not know everything. The human body is so complex that we may never have answers to everything that happens - especially in pregnancy.

However,  I have also learned that there is not a lot of research dedicated to this area. This makes me mad. How can we be okay with this? Why is there not more being done to prevent this? Why can't we get the statistic down to 0 in 1000? Who says this can't be done? 


I have decided I want to start a run/walk in memory of Brooklyn. I want to raise funds for research on pregnancy loss. I also want to raise awareness. We live in a society that does not like to think things like this happen. We like to think that stillbirth is a thing of the past, or only happens to older moms, or people who do not take care of themselves during pregnancy. This is not true - it can happen to anyone. We are living proof of this. We are both healthy 23 and 26 year olds who don't smoke, don't drink excessively, and eat relatively healthy. I did everything that was in my control to protect her - from not eating certain foods, to stopping activities I normally would do. My pregnancy was not in any way deemed "high risk", and yet this is our new reality. 

I have no idea where to start, or how to go about this, but if you are reading and want to be involved, please contact me. If you have connections through researchers at the hospital or university (preferably McMaster or somewhere local), have experience running big events, or simply want to be involved, please contact me. I really want to make this dream reality, but I am not able to do it on my own. 

Even though I am not able to change what has happened for us, I want to put my fiery spirit into action by "doing" what I can to help prevent this for other families in the future. 

We now belong to a very daunting statistic. We are one of the 6 in 1000. Help us make this number smaller.

Friday, 16 May 2014

She Called Her By Name

Since my first year at McMaster, I haven't had a family doctor. I have been searching for one for the past couple of years on and off, and got very lazy and discouraged towards the end. I really wanted a female doctor, preferably near our house, and was trying to get in to the McMaster Family Practice. I would call every couple of months but they were never accepting new clients.

After losing Brooklyn, it was necessary to have a family doctor. This was a bigger priority than ever before, but I had no energy or drive to be able to search yet again. A good friend of mine called McMaster Family Practice for me and *somehow* got me in. I think part of it may have been her persistence and personality type that allows her to make things happen and get things done :)

This Wednesday I met with the new doctor for the first time. I've had some bad experiences in the past with family doctors, so I was very nervous. I also knew that I would have to share Brooklyn's story at some point in our initial meeting, because it is now a very important part of my medical records. Needless to say, I was very anxious heading into this appointment.

The receptionist called my name, and I sat in the exam room waiting. The doctor came in and right away I noticed she had an accent. She told me she was from New Zealand and apologized if there were things I could not understand. She said she has no problem repeating 2, 3, or even 10 times if that's how long it takes for me to completely understand what she is saying. I felt comfortable with her right away. The knots in my stomach began to loosen.

She spent a good portion of the appointment explaining how the Family Practice works, and then told me about her research and teaching interests. I am a big nerd when it comes to things like that so I was very interested to hear what her research focused on.

Then came the part in the appointment where she had to go through my medical and social history. I started to become anxious again as she asked me if there is anything they need to know about my medical history. Talking about Brooklyn to people who have no idea what happened has been very challenging for me to navigate. I feel as if there is no way to ease people into the bomb I am about to drop on them. I talked a bit about my medical history first, and then she noticed all of the medications I said I was on when I initially filled out the paper work. "Perfect", I thought. "This is a good transition." I explained to her that when I filled it out, I had just given birth to our daughter and was no longer on the medications. I then told her that we had unfortunately lost our daughter.

She looked at me with eyes full of empathy, and told me she was sorry. She then went on to ask what had happened. I explained our story and outcome of some of our test results to her. She said that she had a good friend who had a very similar thing happen to her. Again I felt like a weight was lifted off of my shoulders. Not only did I have a medical professional who would understand my story from a medical standpoint, but a doctor who would also understand from a personal and emotional perspective.

And then she asked what our daughters name is. I told her it was Brooklyn, and she smiled and said she loved it. For the rest of my appointment, she continued to call Brooklyn by name. She even entered her name into the computer system and typed "Firstborn: daughter named Brooklyn..."

This might seem like a very simple thing. Some people may wonder what the significance of this is - and that's okay. But to me, having people call Brooklyn by name means that they are acknowledging she existed, was and is important, and is an integral part of my story.

I think that sometimes people assume that saying her name or talking about her will be upsetting to me or remind me of what we have lost. But the reality is, I am constantly thinking about her and I am always wanting to talk about her. Just because we lost her, doesn't mean I am not so proud to be a mom and to have a beautiful daughter.

At the end of the appointment, she told me she is looking forward to walking beside me during future pregnancies. I could have cried right then and there.

She had given me a small glimpse of hope, and I knew I had found a great doctor when she called Brooklyn by name.



Sunday, 11 May 2014

(Happy) Mothers Day

My precious girl,

Today was supposed to be a happy day. When I was pregnant with you, I had imagined this day much differently. I was excited to spend my first Mother's day with you, my new baby girl. Instead I woke up with an aching heart - one that continued to ache all day long.

Leading up to today, I knew it was going to be hard, but I had no idea just how hard it would be. I thought maybe you would come to mind more often, or I would be a little more sad than usual, but you were on my mind the entire day. I had flashbacks often today. Mostly about our labour and delivery together, and even about leaving the hospital. I know that this is a normal part of the process. Mummy worked on a child abuse team at the hospital when I was newly pregnant with you, and there learned to work from a trauma-informed perspective. Because of this, my brain has a pretty good understanding of the effects of trauma, and I knew that eventually these effects would creep in, but my heart was not prepared. 

My heart ached all day long today. And my arms felt heavy and ached too. It was one of the hardest days yet - even harder than Easter. And I know there will be many more hard days to come in the next few months. Especially with Mummy's birthday and graduation coming up. Things just aren't the way they should be without you my sweet girl.

We had lunch at your Grandma's today with your both your Grandpas, Granny, and Aunt Hannah. This Mother's Day I am especially thankful for your Granny and Grandma. Since having you, I feel like I am able to understand on a different level the love they have for your Daddy and I. They have been so loving and supportive my entire pregnancy with you, but especially since we lost you. I am so glad that they were in the delivery room when you came into this world. It's something I will cherish forever. I wish you could have had more time with them...

Your Daddy, Samson and I visited you tonight. I think Samson misses you almost as much as we do. He smells your blanket often, and gets really excited when we drive in to come visit you. The cemetery was busier than it normally is. Lots of people were visiting their mothers, but we were visiting you our sweet girl. We noticed tonight that you have a new neighbour.  She was buried beside you sometime between Wednesday night and Sunday. The flowers and wreaths placed on the grave said "Mom". I had a heavy heart for that family, having to bury their mother so close to Mother's Day. 

I cried on your Daddy's shoulder when we visited tonight. Your little grave looks oh so small next to the full size person next to you. It makes me so sad knowing they lived so much life, while yours was cut so short. We realized tonight that there is another little girl buried close to you too. Her name is Hannah Grace and she was just four when she went to be with Jesus. It is not right that are three little girls buried so close together - taken way too soon. Parents should never have to bury their children. It just isn't fair. 

Lots of people tried to make today a better day for me. I am very thankful for these people. Especially your Daddy. He wrote me a nice card thanking me for making him a Daddy and for helping him to remember you always. He also got me a very thoughtful gift - a bracelet with a heart pendant. He said it made him think of you because it is a big heart with a smaller diamond heart inside of it. It is like my heart is holding yours - and it is my sweet girl. My heart will always hold yours so dearly. It was such a perfect gift. Your Daddy knows how to pick gifts well. He is such a great husband to me. And a great Daddy too. 

I wish you could have spent more time with him. He is the most patient and loving man I know, and I know he was the perfect Daddy for a little girl like you. When we found out we were having a girl, I was so excited. I often pictured your Daddy teaching you things, playing dress up, and having tea parties. But I was most excited for him to show you how a man should love and honour you. And was excited to see him walk you down the aisle one day to a man who could never love you as much as him, but would spend his whole life trying. These are all hopes and dreams that have been shattered since losing you, Brooklyn. I hope and pray that God gives your Daddy and I another baby girl someday. I know he will be the perfect Daddy no matter what babies God decides we should have, but only certain Daddy's are perfect for little girls... and he is one of them. 

I was given some very thoughtful presents today, but there is one that is very dear to me. Two very special people in my life got me a Willow Tree figurine. I have always loved them, but this one is perfect. It is called "Guardian". It is a Mum holding her baby close. The bottom of it says "Love and protect thee, forever." My sweet girl, I spent nine months protecting you. I gave up certain foods, didn't go bowling or ice skating, ate my veggies and took my vitamins, drank lots of water, limited my coffee intake, did prenatal yoga and walked a lot. I tried my best to protect you from everything that was in my control, and I would do it all over again. The way the little figurine is holding the baby so close, is the way that I held you in that hospital room. I will love and cherish this present forever, as it reminds me of the very special bond that you and I have together - a bond that formed as soon as you were conceived, and will last a lifetime. 

I miss you so much that it hurts. Today was not a happy Mother's Day, Brooklyn. But I am so thankful that you are the beautiful girl that made me a Mum. I will forever be grateful for that privilege. 

Love you - always & forever,

Mum xo



Thursday, 8 May 2014

Home Videos

Tonight I am feeling sad thinking about how we will never have home videos of Brooklyn's first time crawling, first time eating solid food, first steps, first hockey game, her graduation, or her wedding. This hit me like a ton of bricks, and I became extremely envious of all of the parents who have had, or will have this opportunity. I feel like we are missing out on so many of her experiences on this earth.

This past Christmas, part of my gift from my in-laws was a 3D ultrasound of Brooklyn. With this package, we received 4 printed photos and a real time DVD of her movement.

I watched the DVD tonight. As I had tears streaming down my face, I realized that this DVD is the only opportunity we will ever have to see our baby girl open her eyes and yawn. It is also the only way we know that she liked to have her hands up near her face, and that she was a thumb-sucker just like I was.

I am so thankful for these memories we have of her, and I am glad that for the rest of our lives, we have these "home videos" to cherish.


Sucking her thumb.


Eyes open.

Wednesday, 7 May 2014

Our Little Cherry Blossom

I have always loved cherry blossom trees. I think that they are the most beautiful and delicate of trees.  We even had our engagement pictures taken under the cherry blossoms in Spencer Smith park. Last spring I told Derek I wanted to plant one. Then I decided against it, because while they are pretty to look at, their beauty only lasts for a very short time.

On my walk with Samson today, I noticed the cherry blossoms are in full bloom right now. Their peak bloom time is normally mid-late April, but with the terrible winter and continuous cold weather we've had, they have bloomed a little late this year.

Today, I felt Brooklyn's presence so strong as I took in the beauty of the trees on our walk. I started to think about how she is our cherry blossom. She bloomed in the spring, and her beauty was only physically present for a very short time.

I realized that while cherry blossoms only last for a short time, this does not take away from their beauty or the joy that they bring to people. Brooklyn was also only physically present on earth for a very short amount of time, but was absolutely beautiful and has brought such joy to so many people. And in the very short time we had her, she has taught Derek and I, and so many others so much about life.

I think I might just plant a cherry blossom.


Monday, 5 May 2014

Our First Fifth

Dear Sweet Brooklyn,

This is our first fifth without you. It has been one whole month since you came into this world, so beautiful and perfect. That day was full of moments of extreme heart ache, but also moments of pure and indescribable joy. I know some people won't understand how there could have been moments of joy on your birthday Brooklyn, but it was the day your Daddy and I got to finally meet you. I wish so badly I could go back to that day. It was worth all of the pain and heartache that came with it.

You are still the first thing I think of as I get up in the morning, and the last on my mind at night. The mornings are still the hardest. Many mornings my arms physically ache and long to be holding you, my baby girl. My heart aches too. It aches when I hear a baby's cry. It aches when I see a Daddy and his daughter together. It aches when I see the mom on our street walking with the same stroller and car seat we had picked out for you, our precious girl. It aches when I see a little girl with curly brown hair. And it aches when I see a mother holding her baby in a sling or carrier. When I was pregnant with you, I bought three carriers. I know this seems excessive, but I was so excited to be able to hold you so close to my heart when you were born. I used to daydream about carrying you in the slings, and seeing your Daddy carry you too. Brooklyn - I long to hold your tiny body against mine, but know that you will always be held so dearly in my heart.

Mummy went back to work last week. It has been so nice to see old regular customers again. One lady that I have come to know and love, overheard another employee talking about how we lost you, and she came up to me on my break. She told me that she too lost her first baby. She shared how painful that experience was, but also said that she too is a believer and knows she will meet that baby in Heaven one day. She then went on to say that she and her husband ended up having three more healthy children. This gives me hope. My dear Brooklyn, my heart SO desires to be a mother to more children. You will always be our first, and you will NEVER be replaced, but I desperately hope that your Daddy and I are able to have more children. You are so special because you are our FIRST born. This is something you and I share together. You are the beautiful girl who made me a Mum. My heart feels sad that you will not be able to experience what it is like to have younger siblings on this earth. But I know that one day your Daddy and I will meet with you in Heaven, and I hope and pray that you will be able to play with your future little siblings.

Yesterday in church we sang the song "10,000 reasons" by Matt Redman. You used to wiggle around inside of me when this song played and I was pregnant with you. I like to think that you loved this song  as much as I do, and were dancing to it. I'm still struggling to sing worship songs in church. It is hard because I believe that God is true and faithful, but right now it is really hard to sing about it. Yesterday I still wasn't able to sing this song, but I found hope in these lyrics:

"And on that day
When my strength is failing
The end draws near
And my time has come
Still my soul will
Sing Your praise unending
Ten thousand years
And then forevermore"

You see my sweet girl, I realized yesterday that my earthly life without you is such a small amount of time in comparison to "ten thousand years and then forevermore" with you in Heaven. How amazing is that? This doesn't make me miss you any less, or make the hurt go away, but it gives me a bit of hope to hang on to.

I visit you often my love. Last week I came to see you, and I found myself so angry. I was angry because I was reading all of the other memorial stones of people who have passed and are buried close to you. All of them were older people. They had the chance to live long lives. Their mother's were able to hold them in their arms and rock them to sleep. And they were able to experience things on earth that you never were.

And then on my way back to the car, I noticed the memorial stone of a little girl just two years old. My heart began to ache for her parents. I too know how hard it is to lose a child. But my sweet baby, I know that you are with her in Heaven, and I even like to think that you are friends with little "Mikaela". I daydream about you two running through wild flowers together. It gives me peace knowing all the others who have been lost before you. I know that you are being held so closely by so many people who love you in Heaven. And I like to think that even Jesus himself has cuddled you for me.

Sweet Brooklyn, I will continue to write to you as it helps me feel closer and more connected.

I love you with a love that only a mother knows. Such a strong and indescribable love. One that is able to find you always.

Love always and forever,

Mum xo