A Dragonfly's Embrace

How can time fly by, yet seem to go nowhere?

2011-08-16T22:23:00.001-04:00

It's been far too long missing your smile. Just once more... for even a second....

Miss you so much!

Love you always!

365 Days of Eternity

2010-08-16T00:35:00.002-04:00

One year ago today I put our sweet Olivia back to bed after her 2am feeding. I rocked her to sleep, kissed her forehead, rubbed her cheeks, and whispered "I Love You, Sleep Well." Little did I know, as I quietly pulled the door shut and crawled back into bed beside Sara, that I had just spent my last moments with our precious Peanut.

The stillness of that Sunday morning was completely misleading, soon to be broken by the frantic cries and screams of breaking hearts and shattered lives. When I woke up to sun streaming into our room rather than cries from the baby monitor, I knew something was wrong. I checked the clock, it said 9am, a bit past Olivia's usual wake-up time. As soon as I opened the door to her room, I knew my recurring nightmare had come true. Holding my precious Olivia, still and lifeless, no cooing, no crying, no giggling, no wiggling, just still; a quiet peaceful look on her face. She had departed this life after fitting more into her 6 short months than many people experience in a lifetime.

While the sun has risen and set 365 times since Olivia left us, there is not a day that doesn't go by where she's not at the forefront of my mind. The sharpness of the pain has receded to a degree, there are still daily reminders of what should have been. I suppose it's like any chronic ache, you figure out how to function with it or around it. Seeing children around Olivia's age is the most difficult because it's a direct reminder of what is missing. At times it also is difficult to believe that we were lucky enough to be with her for 6 months. As that time gets pushed into the distance and her absence becomes longer, the surreality of it strikes me more and more.

The most difficult times are the unique events in life we'll never get to share with her. We got up to watch some of the Perseid Meteor Shower the other night all the while thinking that Olivia would never get to experience such wonders of our world/universe. I did wish upon one of the 'shooting stars' for Olivia to find the peace and health she so well deserved in her life but wasn't blessed with.

I'll close with a Poem I wrote shortly after Olivia's death and a Song that's helped me a lot this last year.

Sleep Well
with your eyes of steel blue,
you pierced my heart.

with your red-golden locks,
you bound my heart to yours

with your toothless smile,
you stole my heart.

with your delicate fingers,
you held my heart.

with your laugh and giggle,
you tickled my heart.

with your cry,
you broke my heart.

with your silence,
you tore my soul asunder.

sleep well my angel,
you will be forever in our hearts.

OAH 2/19/09 - 8/16/09

Every December Sky by Beth Nielsen Chapman

Every December sky
Must lose its faith in leaves
And dream of the spring inside the trees.
How heavy the empty heart,
How light the heart that's full.
Sometimes I have to trust what I can't know
Sometimes I have to trust what I can't know
We walk into Paradise;
The angels lend us shoes.
'Cause all that we own,
We'll come to lose,
And Heaven is not so far
Outside this womb of words.
With every rose that blooms
My soul is assured
It's just like a song I've known
Yet still unheard.
And every leaf of fire lets go,
Melting in the arms of earth and snow.
And if I could hold you now,
You'd enter like a sigh.
You'd be the wind that blows
The answer to why?
You'd be the spring-filled trees
Of every December sky.

Life is just a Roller Coaster

2010-07-12T22:55:00.000-04:00

Even though it's been quite a while since I written anything in this blog, it's never been far from my mind. The last months have had ups and downs, with the downs luckily not reaching depths that they did in the early months after Olivia's death. I have been able to set aside times to grieve, or at least control & suppress what 'normal company' would consider 'inappropriate' times to grieve in public. I've found that if I create a routine that allows for my private & sometimes public expression of grief, life proceeds much more smoothly. Even though the majority of Olivia's ashes are at home with us on her Memorial Shelf so she's with us every day, I still try to make it to Olivia's grave once a week.

Some days when I visit her grave I can smile, say a few words and move on, but other times I feel crushed. I can spend 20 or 30 minutes sitting by her side sobbing and still feel no better. Last weekend we stopped by her graveside (after a funeral service for a friend's mother) and we finally saw her headstone. After a number of false starts and delays Olivia's marker arrived exactly like we wanted. (Sorry the pictures aren't the best, but they were taken with my cell phone, it was all I had with me at the time)

I feel the marker captures everything we could want to tell about our little peanut in the space provided. Her portrait on the right captures her 'Soul Gaze' that she perfected in her short time in our world. The Dragonfly on the left (designed by my wonderful sister-in-law) captures the essence of her current spirit - free, graceful, & unbound.

My wife gave me a wonderful Father's Day present, a Tricolored Beech Tree to plant in Olivia's memory. She also gave me a nicely inscribed memorial plaque to hang around the tree. Here's a picture after I planted the tree a couple of weekends ago. In the background to the left (beside the leaning birdhouse) is a Weeping Willow I planted last summer in honor of Olivia's birth.....

We're quickly approaching 1 year without our little girl, it's hard to believe we've made it this far. The wound is not as raw as it once was, yet it still bleeds easily and often, at least I've learned how not to bump it quite as hard. We've been lucky to find a great local support group that meets once a month to help us share our feelings and know we're not alone.

It's late and I need to get some sleep, I'll leave you with a song I've posted before but it's appropriate to my life right now. I'm sure a number of you will figure it out soon enough.

Peace,
Ben

Mr. Postman look and see
If there's a message in your bag for me
Could be a bomb or it could be a letter
It don't matter it can only get better
Mr. Postman look and see
If there's a message in your bag for me
You know it's been such a long long time
Since I could laugh at this world of mine

Slippin' and slidin' around in your head
It's be-bop-a-lula then baby you're dead
So c'mon make a bright new day
I need a prayer here
Need a blessing
Cast an eye back as you run
Turn around boy!
See the rainbow come

Life is just a Roller Coaster

2010-07-12T22:52:00.000-04:00

Even though it's been quite a while since I written anything in this blog, it's never been far from my mind. The last months have had had ups and downs, with the downs luckily not reaching depths that they did in the early months after Olivia's death. I have been able to set aside times to grieve, or at least control & suppress what 'normal company' would consider 'inappropriate' times to grieve in public. I've found that if I create a routine that allows for my private & sometimes public expression of grief, life proceeds much more smoothly. Even though the majority of Olivia's ashes are at home with us on her Memorial Shelf so she's with us every day, I still try to make it to Olivia's grave once a week.

Some days when I visit her grave I can smile, say a few words and move on, but other times I feel crushed. I can spend 20 or 30 minutes sitting by her side sobbing and still feel no better. Last weekend we stopped by her graveside (after a funeral service for a friend's mother) and we finally saw her headstone. After a number of false starts and delays the Olivia's marker arrived exactly like we wanted. (Sorry the pictures aren't the best, but they were taken with my cell phone, it was all i had with me at the time)

I feel the marker captures everything we could want to tell about out little peanut in the space provided. The Picture on the right captures her 'Soul Gaze' that she perfected in her short time in our world. The Dragonfly on the left (designed by my wonderful sister-in-law) captures the essence of her current spirit - free, graceful, & unbound.

My wife gave me a wonderful Father's Day present, a Tricolored Beech Tree to plant in Olivia's memory. She also gave me a nicely inscribed memorial plaque to hang around the tree. Here's a picture after I planted the tree a couple of weekends ago. In the background to the left (beside the leaning birdhouse) is a Weeping Willow I planted last summer in honor of Olivia's birth.....

Mr. Postman look and see
If there's a message in your bag for me
Could be a bomb or it could be a letter
It don't matter it can only get better
Mr. Postman look and see
If there's a message in your bag for me
You know it's been such a long long time
Since I could laugh at this world of mine

Slippin' and slidin' around in your head
It's be-bop-a-lula then baby you're dead
So c'mon make a bright new day
I need a prayer here
Need a blessing
Cast an eye back as you run
Turn around boy!
See the rainbow come

Turning a Corner or Just Turning Circles?

2010-03-07T20:07:00.000-05:00

First I'd like to thank everyone who has provided us support since I started this blog, but especially the kind words over the last few weeks. It's obviously been a difficult couple of weeks since Olivia's 1st Birthday, but we have managed to make it through 'to the other side' and have grown in the process. Thanks.

There have been days recently where it seems easier to smile, I don't know if it's partly the slow movement from a long gray winter to the bright, crisp early signs of spring, a slow acceptance of what is and how life will be w/o her, or if it's just a temporary respite before the next storm?

When I find myself smiling it's no longer my immediate reaction to feel guilty, the way I did a while ago. Yet there is still an underlying sadness when I realize that my smile could/should be shared with our little girl.While I wouldn't go so far as to describe myself as happy, there has definitely been a change in underlying mood - for the better. Maybe I have just learned to cope better, or know what to avoid, or maybe I'm learning how to compartmentalize.

The other day I was sitting at work (not working), I decided to update my Facebook profile picture. Since Olivia was born, she's been in each profile picture. I'm sure some of my friends think it's quite morbid for me to continue using her photo, but that's their problem. On her Birthday I changed it to the memorial picture I previously posted in 'Crazy Time of Year.' Two weeks later I felt it was time to change it again. I started browsing my Olivia folder to find something appropriate. Of course I always get somewhat melancholy when I browse through her pictures, but this time I got socked in the gut. It's a great picture of her sitting in her bouncy chair. She's got crazy hair going on, and I mean Einstein hairdo crazy, she's got the biggest toothless grin on her face, just having a grand old time. I suspect that she must have been laughing with Grandma then, because no matter what, Olivia would ALWAYS smile for Grandma Barb! So I'm sitting at my desk browsing the pictures feeling sentimental and wham-o I come across this sight and tears just start streaming down my face. I'm not sure if my employees noticed this, but I guess by now they've learned that it's par for the course. I manage to find a more sedate picture of her to upload as my FB profile picture, Olivia gazing off into the distance, hand raised to her mouth ala Rodin's The Thinker as if she was planning her future... who knows she probably knew more about what the road ahead held for her than we did. Of course this all happens moments before my next client arrives... compartmentalization I tell ya, it's a key to survival.

After Olivia's death I quickly learned how to compartmentalize at work, focusing on the task at hand, or I would have been worthless in my job. I'm sure my work suffered over the early months, but I've now made a concerted effort to deal with the task at hand rather than getting distracted and swallowed up by grief. Sometimes this is easier said than done because my personal life is so closely tied to my career. I am the only Veterinarian/Owner of a small Veterinary Clinic, being the only doctor lets me get to know my clients quite well and many of them have become friends over the years. Some followed Olivia's Big Adventure so were quite in tune with her struggles and subsequent death. Others that did not follow her blog might have know about her birth and/or sickness, but are not aware that she passed away last summer. Almost weekly now I have someone come in and ask how Olivia's doing.... It's not their fault, some of them I only see once a year, so the last time they saw me they knew I was a bleary-eyed proud papa... I think I've managed to absorb the question quite well, no longer breaking down when it gets asked. When the client apologizes for asking, I use it as a teachable moment to explain that I'd rather have them ask showing that they cared about Olivia and even tell them little stories about her. It's my way of keeping her alive and making sure she's not a taboo subject to people.

People die, kids die, we all will die, shoving it to the bottom of the closet and slamming that door doesn't change anything. In fact I think it creates more problems in the long run. The sooner we can all accept our mortality the sooner we can actually LIVE and appreciate life for the beauty it can bring. One of my favorite movie quotes of all time, while probably overused seems to fit this situation very well.

Get busy living, or get busy dying
-Andy Dufresne Shawhank Redemption

While it obviously can be soul crushingly painful, what would be the point to shrivel up and die ourselves. I need to live for Olivia's sake. I need to let people know she lived, she touched people's lives far and wide, yes it hurts that she's gone -- and I know I'll have some few choice words to say when I meet my 'Maker' -- but hiding Olivia's existence is the worst thing that could happen, negating her struggles, our pain, our Love, her Smiles.

Of course I'm not quite as cutting and frank when I talk to clients about Olivia's death, but I do make it clear that she's someone I want to talk about and they are free to ask questions. This is where it's critical for me to compartmentalize because clients expect me to then address their animal's needs rather than being an emotional basket case. I'm (mostly) able to then lock my emotions aside for release later when it's safe to do so again.

Looking back over this post, it didn't evolve quite the way I had planned it, but I think my point still came across. While I'm trying to move forward, there are always traps that I've become better at anticipating or defusing before it becomes a crisis. Sometimes though, no matter how I try to control my environment I get sucker punched, reminding me that certain nerves will always stay raw.

I'll leave those of you interested with a song that sneaked it's way into my playlist, providing a needed up-tick in spirits. When the Rainbow Comes - World Party

Mr. Postman look and see
If there's a message in your bag for me
Could be a bomb or it could be a letter
It don't matter it can only get better
Mr. Postman look and see
If there's a message in your bag for me
You know it's been such a long long time
Since I could laugh at this world of mine

Slippin' and slidin' around in your head
It's be-bop-a-lula then baby you're dead
So c'mon make a bright new day
I need a prayer here
Need a blessing
Cast an eye back as you run
Turn around boy!
See the rainbow come

Living in a Parallel Universe

2010-02-19T12:27:00.000-05:00

Dearest Olivia,

Today you turn one year old. While I know you can't read yet, I still feel the need write you this note, maybe someday you'll cherish these words like we cherish you. No words can express the pride and joy you have brought to your mother and I. Even when you have a "Grumpy Morning," soon enough we are able to coax out that broad mischievous grin, before you know it we're all laughing. Sometimes I think you do that on purpose, just to squeeze out some extra time from me before I have to go work.

We would love to take you to the Zoo today, but given that it's February we'll have to wait a couple more months before the weather is warm enough for you to enjoy seeing all the animals. Instead I think we'll head over to Grandma's house and have a party there. I can't wait to see you dig into the cake, chocolate, with lots of frosting. I suspect you'll end up wearing more of it than actually eating it, but hey it's a party.

I just know when you see the stack of presents, you'll point and bounce up and down in your seat... yes we've spoiled you already, you know all about presents. When we set you on the ground you delicately stand, toddle a step or two, before landing on your backside and deciding that crawling is still much more efficient way to get to the presents. As you shake, throw and rip your presents, you chatter endlessly to yourself sometimes sounding like real words, but not distinct enough to really know.

After an exciting afternoon, you are never happy about taking a nap, fussing and crying all the while mom and I are hoping to get a nice nap too. Soon enough you sleep for a while and everyone feels much better for it. The rest of the day is spent playing with your new toys, the wrapping paper, and chasing your "itty" (kitty) around the room. When we finally tuck you in after a long and adventuresome day, you give us both a great hug and kiss (well a slobber), and tuck you into bed. We take turns reading the new Olivia book you got from Auntie Melinda, but within minutes you are sound asleep, smile plastered on your face. Happy in your own world of dreams.

Sweet Dreams my Love, Happy Birthday in your World.

I Love You
I Miss You
Happy Birthday Olivia.

Unrequited Love

2010-02-13T17:00:00.003-05:00

If you have browsed across these pages, I'm sure you have been able to notice that music plays an important role in my life. When I'm not in the company of family and friends I can usually be found attached to a pair of headphones and an iPod. Growing up I was immersed in music from as early as I can remember. My parents always had music playing in the background - mainly classical. My brothers and I were always enrolled in some music class, whether violin, piano or voice up until we were out of high school. I do have to admit that while I enjoyed the music, I never had the talent to make much more of it than develop a lifelong enjoyment of all things musical. I provide this preface to give some more background to my use of songs as therapy during trying times in my life.

I will lay out the songs as they came to me chronologically and explain what grabbed me about them. Here's a LINK to the zip file with the full MP3's if you're interested in downloading the compilation (~80MB).

When we were planning Olivia's funeral, the funeral home asked us to provide some pictures they could put in a slide-show and put to some music. I immediately knew that this was something I needed to do, it was my fist step into therapy. Immediately I thought of two songs: Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow - What a Wonderful World, and Every December Sky by Beth Nielsen Chapman.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow - What a Wonderful World evokes a feeling of peace and hope with it's simplicity of vocals, ukulele, and melody. I chose this song to put a memorial video onto YouTube of our Olivia. The innocence in the song & lyrics just fit so well for a child.

Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me.

Every December Sky was the second song I chose for her memorial service. The haunting piano and depth of lyrics still bring tears to my eyes on every hearing. Again there is hope for the future rebirth of life from what seems dead. The sad thing for me is that there are too many times when I lack the faith to feel assured of this rebirth.

Every December sky
Must lose its faith in leaves
And dream of the spring inside the trees.

And if I could hold you now,
You'd enter like a sigh.
You'd be the wind that blows
The answer to why?

Sara suggested we add Enya's If I Could Be Where You Are to her Memorial DVD. I had never really paid attention to the song, but when Sara played it for me a few days after Olivia died, I was just left speechless. It manages to cut to the quick with lyrics like:

Where are you this moment
Only in my dreams
You're missing, but you're always
a heartbeat from me.

I'm lost now without you.
I don't know where you are.
I keep watching,
I keep hoping,
but time keeps us apart.

How can something that was so close to us, something that was a part of us and our future be forever inaccessible?

Is there a road I could follow,
to bring you back home?

... Sigh

Soon after Olivia's Funeral I know my feelings of grief turned more toward anger and frustration at our inability to prevent what most likely had become an inevitable occurrence. My choices in songs show this shift in attitude also. I ran across The Stereophnics - It Means Nothing. The driving refrain punches me in the gut every time.

It means nothing
It means nothing
It means nothing
It means nothing
It means nothing
If I haven't got you

As a friend aptly pointed out on Olivia's Blog

every life, however short means something. Every death means *something*. As the people left behind, it is now our job; a part of our life; to ensure that Olivia's life and our lives mean something. It's a debt to Olivia's memory.

It's easy to despair and believe that Olivia's life was for naught, and now your lives are for naught ... but hers wasn't and yours aren't.

If these things didn't mean something, you wouldn't be grieving.

I think this song captured more of my overall mood at the time, rather than my longterm/permanent outlook on this tragedy. Still it never fails, when this song comes on in my rotation, I turn the volume up and let it carry me away.

James Blunt's - You're Beautiful is a song I've liked for a number of years, but when I heard it late last summer, I just lost it. I was driving home from grocery shopping and actually had to pull over into a side street and let go.

The realization and resignation in this love song that:

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.

Will haunt me until I die.

Soon thereafter I stumbled across Adele - Chasing Pavements. While this song is obviously composed as a love song of unrequited love, it hits home because of it's futility in task. How can you ever say enough if you can never say it to them directly...

If i tell the world,
I'll never say enough,
Cause it was not said to you,
And thats exactly what i need to do,
If i'm in love with you,

Should i give up,
Or should i just keep chasing pavements?
Even if it leads nowhere,
Or would it be a waste?
Even If i knew my place should i leave it there?
Should i give up,
Or should i just keep chasing pavements?
Even if it leads nowhere

In my first post here, I mentioned I had found Snow Patrol - Chasing Cars mentioned by a couple of other bloggers. It quickly made its way into my Olivia compilation ... or the 'In Memoriam' playlist as its currently called. Again it's a love song, yet filled with worry about the future.

I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel

Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough

"I Love You" is said too often and too lightly, yet with you Olivia, those three words are not enough....

The song Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap appeared at the bottom of my Frame of Reference post. It kind of strikes me as another transitional piece for me, falling still into the Love Song category, but more from the perspective of a jilted lover.

where are we?
what the hell is going on?
the dust has only just begun to form
crop circles in the carpet
sinking feeling

oily marks appear on walls
where pleasure moments hung before the takeover,
the sweeping insensitivity of this still life

Obviously this anger (jilted feeling) is not directed toward Olivia, but toward "The World", "God", a "Greater Power" that supposedly looks out for our wellbeing.

Eric Clapton's - Tears in Heaven has been a song I've always liked, but never gave too much import to it's true meaning until Sara mentioned it a few weeks ago. I sat down in my office and let the message of the song wash over me, which resulted in the brief post ....if I could only believe. Having lost his young child in a tragic accident, the poingancy of his loss comes through in every lyric... how can you chose just one line.

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?
I must be strong
And carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven.

I have always been a big fan of the Counting Crows, for some reason the melancholy they manage to capture in their songs has always been something I have been able to identify with. In A Long December I found solace in the passing of another year, yet remembering to live and not wish time to just pass.

And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass

A Long December seems to mark another transition in my healing process. For the first time (since Somewhere Over the Rainbow) there is a move toward acceptance and a hope for the future, without just discarding the past.

Jack Johnson's - Monsoon is another song that's been with me for quite a while, yet it's meaning has completely changed viewed from this side of grief. The symbolism surrounding tears in the lyrics is extremely powerful. Sadness, relief, rebirth.

When all of life
Is in one drop of the ocean
Waiting to go home
Just waiting to go home
And if the moon
Can turn the tides it can pull the tears
And take them from our eyes
Turn them into monsoons
Make them into monsoon-er or later
They'll weep their way back to the sea
Going to finally be free
Free for a while
Until they break
Like waves of sorrow always break
All in due time
Because time never waits

Lately I have attempted to continue down my 'healing track' of acceptance, by focusing more on songs like Do You Realize by The Flaming Lips. I first came across this song before Sara and I were married, on hearing it she commented on the sadness of the lyrics. I think the finality of the lyric struck her.

Do You Realize - that everyone you know someday will die
And instead of saying all of your goodbyes - let them know
You realize that life goes fast
It's hard to make the good things last
You realize the sun don'-go down
It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round

Yet I tend to see it a little differently. It reminds me to not take anything, any time for granted. I also like the hope provided in the last two lines, so sunsets (death) are an illusion created by the world spinning (our point of observation)... that means life must carry on, just beyond our seeing.... right?

The final two songs that I've added to Olivia's Compilation continue to push me into acceptance and 'goodbye', whether I'm ready for that or not, they're needed to fill out this collection. The Beatles - Golden Slumbers has always been a favorite 'lullaby' of mine, yet never did I think I'd need it for a Memorial Collection.

Once there was a way to get back homeward
Once there was a way to get back home
Sleep pretty darling do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby

Golden slumbers fill your eyes
Smiles awake you when you rise
Sleep pretty darling do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby

Once there was a way to get back homeward
Once there was a way to get back home
Sleep pretty darling do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby

Goodnight by The Rembrandts a fitting closing bookend for Olivia.

When you need someone, that you can turn to
Honey don't you know-You can turn to me
And if you need a hand, to help you hold on
Honey don't you know-You can hold on me
Because you've given me the moon
Oh of this you're unaware
And you'll be moving on so soon
To the life that's waiting out there
Goodnight my sweet angel-It's time to close your eyes
Goodnight my sweet angel-I'll see you when you rise

By tomorrow morning, you'll have been gone longer than we ever had you. I Miss You. I Love You.

Another Song For The Mood

2010-02-04T18:14:00.000-05:00

I really need to get a full listing together of songs that have helped me, maybe this weekend... In the meantime enjoy some Jack Johnson -- Monsoon

The refrain just grabs me

All of life
Is in one drop of the ocean waiting to go home
Just waiting to go home
And if the moon
Can turn the tides it can pull the tears
And take them from our eyes
Make them into monsoons
Turn them into monsoon-er or later
They’ll weep their way back to the sea
Gonna finally be free
Free for a while
Until they break
Like waves of sorrow always do all in due time
Because time never waits

Frame of Reference

2010-01-28T21:48:00.001-05:00

Having survived our first set of 'Holidays' with our litle Olivia (wow I just typoed that as with our Olivia..) anyway let me start over...

Having survived our first set of 'Holidays' without our little Olivia, it has only brought us closer to another mountain to climb. Soon we will start hitting anniversary dates:

February 19th brings what should have been Olivia's 1st Birthday
March 13th brings her 1st successful open heart surgery
April 16th gave us the 'official diagnosis' of Alagille Syndrome

Even though February 19th obviously carries unspeakable importance, February 14th is going to hurt just as much if not more. The beyond obvious reason of Valentine's Day, 2/14/2010 will be the day that Olivia has been gone longer than she was with us. We were so fortunate to have our daughter for 5 months and 28 days, enjoying every moment (well almost all). Yet on Feb 14th, 2010 will be 5 months and 29 days that she our earthly plane.

Dates and times that would not have as much meaning if Olivia were still alive, take the place of her 'growing' milestones. We have to create our own markers to attach memories to, coloring all we do/see in the off colors jaded by sorrow. Everyone always told us "When you have your baby your life will change forever!" Little did they know how prophetic they would be, almost doubly so, because we were given the greatest gift one can receive, only to find out it wasn't ours to keep.... The swing from Highest of Highs to Lowest of Lows now colors everything I look at. It's like looking through a kaleidescope without the beautiful colors. Wandering through my life now I'm often reminded of a beautiful post a fellow grieving parent made on her blog about the long term shadow cast by the loss of a child on the landscape of one's life. (I've copied the entirety of her (andthroughthestorm's) post below to do full justice to the image. The original blog post can be found HERE-- I hope she doesn't mind. Visit their blog, it's well worth your time.)

I’ve had this picture in my head for a while and I’m now at the point that I’d like to share it. The picture is of a wide landscape which represents my life. My life goes from the left to right and as we move across time passes. On the left I cant see much on the very far edge, I’m young and I hate to say many of my memories have faded, it’s a bit misty. As time moves on there are hills and valleys, but on the whole its all fairly flat. The sun is high in the sky and even in the valleys it’s still pretty bright. Moving on there are a few valleys that are deeper and although they are lush and green on the way down the climb back up is rough, barren, hard and difficult to climb. In the centre of the picture I see the last few years. After a fairly deep and grim valley there begins to be beautiful flowers on the ground, slowly more and more till you reach a lush stunning garden full of colour and light. The flowers and beauty represent the time hubby and I were falling in love and the garden our wedding. The flowers continue out of the garden to the next landmark, a stunning glass prism, which as the light from sun strikes it floods the time from then on with an amazing rainbow of colours. The prism is the birth of our son. For a while the landscape continues with this wonderful scene , then all of a sudden the serenity is broken by a huge dark pillar of stone. The stone is by far the highest point on the whole horizon and it casts a shadow far to the right, but as time goes on the shadow weakens in its intensity and the light of the sun is more visible. At the base of the stone is a tiny climbing plant and as time passes this grows and eventually covers the dark bare stone in leaves of green and bright ruby red flowers. The stone is still large and makes the future quite dark, at least to start with, but in time stone is beautiful too.

At times it's hard to believe that any of what has happened in the last year is real, or ever was real. I'm surrounded by images, items, and reminders of a time that seems too long gone. Was that girl that nuzzled on my shoulder rubbing her face really mine, or has this all been a dream? I have flashes where the gravity of what we've lost it hits me. When I look, really look at pictures of Olivia, not just glance, I immediately get a constricting feeling in my throat, a slightly metallic taste in my mouth, a burning sensation in my eyes, followed by tears welling in my eyes, oh how I wish they were tears of joy. I guess I'm still too close to the monolith to get a true perspective on it. Hopefully in time, the stone will weather, the edges be less sharp, hopefully eventually it will lose it's stranglehold on sunlight that it seems to have at this time.

Let me end with another piece of music that's on my playlist right now:

Imogen Heap : Hide and Seek

.... if I could only believe

2010-01-24T13:11:00.000-05:00

My wonderful wife mentioned this song earlier today and I just had to re-listen to it. I'd always known that the song was about Eric Clapton losing his young son, the raw emotion can be felt in the song, yet I hadn't thought about it until Sara mentioned it.

Tears In Heaven

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?
I must be strong
And carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven.

Would you hold my hand
If I saw you in heaven?
Would you help me stand
If I saw you in heaven?

I'll find my way
Through night and day,
'Cause I know I just can't stay
Here in heaven.

Time can bring you down,
Time can bend your knees.
Time can break your heart,
Have you begging please, begging please.

Beyond the door,
There's peace I'm sure,
And I know there'll be no more
Tears in heaven.

Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?

I must be strong
And carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven.

A Long December

2010-01-21T20:58:00.000-05:00

Another track to add to Olivia's Playlist.

A long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leaving
Oh the days go by so fast

And it's been a long December and there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass

I hope to get a longer post together soon about all the songs on Olivia's In Memoriam Playlist.

Shooting the Curl

2010-01-07T20:35:00.000-05:00

Surviving The Holidays™ was actually more difficult than I could have imagined. In my naiveté or more likely state of denial, I had constructed an elaborate theory that since Olivia left us before we ever experienced a Christmas with her it wouldn't hurt as much because we didn't have any direct memories of 'Last Christmas.' Wow was I wrong....

Ever since Thanksgiving there has been a gradual crescendo of feelings and emotions just waiting to pour out. The first punch to the gut came at Thanksgiving Dinner toasting our beloved Olivia, realizing that there wasn't much to be thankful for in 2009. Being inundated with happy-happy-joy-joy advertising hawking the newest children's toys sure didn't help either. Another reminder of what we've lost came when we received a beautiful pair of angel wings from Christa over at Fumbling Toward Motherhood.... Christa enclosed a very nice card and well wishes along with a gorgeous pair of shimmering gold wings, which went straight to the top of our Christmas tree, bringing both Sara and myself to tears. I know we will never need to look for another angel to grace the top of our tree.... Christmas Eve and Christmas day were of course the most difficult days because of the constant reminder of what should have been. It just doesn't seem right celebrating without the greatest present we were ever given. Gift exchanges this year were much more muted but beautifully focused on our little angel. I borrowed Francesca's Hope Collage idea and created personalized collages for some of our immediate family members while Sara printed and framed some beautiful pictures of our Olivia as gifts. This created a sad but beautifully reflective tone to the Holiday. Visiting Olivia's grave on Christmas is not where I saw myself one year ago... so painful. Our New Years Eve was more a good riddance 'celebration' than a fond farewell to a year that started with such promise only to end with such pain...

The last months have truly helped me understand the description grief as a wave; there are peaks and valleys, there is a push and pull, they can be gentle or violent, but most of all they reshape whatever they touch over time for better or worse. I assume most of us have seen video of people standing on a pier or jetty watching the first waves of a storm roll in only to be accidentally swallowed by a rogue wave crashing well over their heads, quickly struggling to stay afloat and make it back to shore. The morning Olivia died can well be described this way. Sara and I had been fighting a gathering storm for nearly six months, wanting to believe that the incoming waves were settling into a gentle rhythm we could live with, only to find ourselves swept away by one rogue wave into a violent whirlpool of emotion. While we physically survived the initial storm, emotionally we were bruised and battered beyond easy recognition. Slowly we have been fighting our way back to shore, still buffeted by waves, sometimes gentle, sometimes rough, but always there. The transforming power of waves/water is evident all around us in this world. It can create spectacular natural wonders like the Grand Canyon or it can undermine foundations and bring buildings crashing down. I wonder what shore will look like when we get there.

I wish I had the skills to Shoot this Curl, but somehow I keep having the waves crash on top of me....

Sleep Well My Sweet

2009-12-25T13:20:00.002-05:00

We miss you you beyond words. Today should have been so different.

We Love You!

If I Could Be Where You Are

2009-12-22T21:16:00.000-05:00

In lieu of a longer post which I haven't had time to complete, I'll share a piece of music which my wife selected for Olivia's Memorial Service. It has to be one of the more haunting pieces I've heard. The refrain of....

Is there a way I can find you?
Is there a sign I should know?
Is there a road I could follow,
to bring you back home?

.... brings tears to my eyes every time.

If I Could Be Where You Are by Enya

Where are you this moment
Only in my dreams
You're missing, but you're always
a heartbeat away.

I'm lost now without you.
I don't know where you are.
I keep watching,
I keep hoping,
but time keeps us apart.

Is there a way I can find you?
Is there a sign I should know?
Is there a road I could follow,
to bring you back home?

Winter lies before me,
Now you're so far away
In the darkness of my dreaming
The light tore, you will stay

If I could be close beside you
If I could be where you are are
If I could reach out and touch you
And bring you back home

Is there a way I can find you?
Is there a sign I should know?
Is there a road I could follow,
to bring you back home?

To me...

Peace,

Ben

Crazy Time of Year

2009-12-13T22:17:00.002-05:00

Life has been kind of crazy with a number of things over the last week; finishing Christmas cards for work, getting fundraiser calendars ready for our cat sanctuary, helping Sara's Uncle move in next door.... very little time to think or relax. In the midst of all this craziness, Olivia is never far from our minds. There just hasn't been any time to decompress or process this time of year w/o our Little Peanut, I'm just waiting for the overflow of emotions to come.

In lieu of a full post, here some pictures of our memorials we've set up for Olivia.

On top of our entertainment center:

The picture of Olivia was taken less than two days before she died. Sara and her mother had taken Olivia for a stroll at the local nature preserve. Olivia had just started to enjoy her diverse surroundings. The look Olivia displays in the picture was very classic for her. She wouldn't just look at you, she would look into you. There always seemed to be a wisdom in that gaze, maybe she always knew more than us what was coming....

Sara and I picked up the clay sculpture in a small art gallery in Arizona as described in this previous post. I spotted the sculpture in the gallery window and knew it had been placed there for us. The simplicity of the sculpture belies its true beauty.

The shared form between mother and child.
The loving gaze shared between mother and child.
The warmth of the embrace.

On the other side of the sculpture is Olivia's Hospital Photo. It is such a bittersweet photo. It represents a future of dreams, expectations, and hopes, all parents have for their children. It recalls a hopeful innocence, before everything we ever held true came crashing down.

Our other memorial revolves around Olivia's Ashes, accompanied by numerous angels and guarded by a Welsh Dragon.

Not that we could ever forget out precious Little Love, but these memorials help keep her close to our heart daily.

We miss you Peanut!

Another Olivia Collage

2009-12-04T20:23:00.000-05:00

I don't remember where I ran across this site (sorry to original poster), but it automatically makes a collage from your website using the most common words in it.

Seven Questions

2009-12-03T19:29:00.000-05:00

These seven questions were originally posted over at the Miscarriage, Stillbirth, Infant loss Blog in July 2007. Since then, a number of other bloggers have tackled these questions with an open honesty that hopefully places a foundation for healing. It has been very enlightening for me to read their thoughts within this Meme. Their answers can be found at In the Land of Broken Hearts, Living in the rainbow (First & Second posts), and Spacebook.

Without further ado....

1. What do you want people to know about the child you have lost?

She was perfect! While her life was dominated by management of her Alagille Syndrome, it did not and should not define who she was. At times it is easy to forget this (even I do), but I have to remind myself that Olivia never knew that she was sick. She just knew herself as a 'normal' baby. She lived in the moment - reminding us that living is what's important.

2. What names did you give (or plan to give) your children and why?

As we were pacing the hospital halls during Sara's early contractions, we both realized it was time to make some final name choices. Not knowing the sex of our child we had to come up with names for boys and girls. Fairly early on we had decided on Liam as our #1 Boy name, while a girl's name remained elusive. Isabelle, Isabella, Elisabeth, Margaret, Anne, on and on without a consensus. Ones I liked, Sara was lukewarm to, and vice versa. About 36 hours before our baby was born Sara asked if I liked Olivia. There it was, that was right: Olivia. Her middle name Anne followed very quickly, fitting in well with mothers/grandmothers on both sides of our family. Little did we know at the time how big an impact those two words would have: Olivia Anne

3. What rituals or ways of memorializing your children seem to best help you cope with their loss?

Early on after losing Olivia we were able to channel our grief and other's generosity into donating to the Alagille Syndrome Alliance in her memory. This worked both as an initial focal point for others, but also will hopefully provide a longer lasting tribute by helping other families affected by Alagille syndrome. We have created a couple of in home 'memorials' to Olivia, which I might post pictures of at some point.
On top of our entertainment center, there is a clay sculpture of a mother holding her child which we found in a small art gallery in Jerome, Arizona - an old mining town now converted to a tourist attraction. The views from this mining town are spectacular and gave us some joy during our darkest days. Flanking this sculpture are two pictures of Olivia; on the right her birth announcement and on the left a picture taken about two days before she died.
We also have Olivia's ashes as the focal point to the other memorial we have in our home. Her ashes are in a beautifully hand crafted copper urn enameled with blue, green, and aqua tones. Surrounding the urn are three ceramic angels welcoming one of their own. A carved frog engraved with dragonflies, a collage of pictures stands to the right, with a Welsh Dragon protecting the lot.
We also buried a small urn of her ashes in a memorial park to publicly remember her passing. We actually have an appointment today to select a marker for the site. We visit her 'grave' regularly, which has collected a number trinkets and flowers helping us remember her life on earth.

4. What are the kindest and/or most helpful things people have said to you? What are the worst?

I'll start with the worst:
At Olivia's Memorial Service, a couple rows back an older gentleman turns to his neighbor and says "She's young, she can have more children." I wanted to reach back, grab him by his collar and scream "We might be lucky enough to have more children, but we'll never get Olivia back!" Of course it was well intentioned, but not sensitive at all.

The comment or conversation that has hurt me the most actually occurred with a family member one month after Olivia passed away. I was venting to him about how hard it was for me to see baby pictures on other's facebook pages so soon after losing Olivia and how I'd have to hide some messages so I could control what I see and when. The response I got blew me away ... 'life goes on everywhere... so you need to deal with it.' I don't think I'll ever be able to forget or forgive that comment. That's what drove home that sadly "You don't get it, until you get it."

"She's in a better place." is another comment that hurts. She was meant to be with us, we were chosen, she's supposed to be with us. Yes, I guess those of stronger faith than I can accept that platitude, not I.

We also got a bizarre letter from a Jehova's Witness in the mail after Olivia's Obituary was in the paper. It talked about the end of days, how we must all repent now, how things like this were all brought about by a sinful word. It was such a bizarre letter that it became comical even at this sad time.

The kindest & most comforting comments have actually come from a variety of sources:

Cards from strangers who don't know us, comments left on Olivia's Blog or the sorrow behind a friend's eyes as they give you a hug. My favorite written comment has to be "Olivia did not know how short her life was. That is your burden to bear." When I read that comment on Olivia's blog, it was the first time I felt 'at peace' after her death.

5. Who is your hero? Who helps you make it through the dark days better than anyone else on the planet?

My wife, Sara. The grace and courage she has shown over the last year has been truly breathtaking. Throughout everything, her pregnancy, Olivia's birth, Olivia's Hospitalizations, Olivia's Death she has persevered. While I lost "My little Peanut," My daughter, a piece of my heart, Sara lost a physical part of herself. Olivia was an extension of her for 38 weeks, fed, nurtured, and kept safe from the world. I have no idea how she has managed to keep herself together like she has. This inner strength is something I strive for daily.

6. Is there anything you need to say or want to say but haven't been able to? Can you say it now?

Olivia, I'm sorry. Sorry I would get frustrated with you, Sorry I spent time doing other things while I could have played with you, Sorry I wasn't with you when your body was too tired to continue to fight, Sorry I've lost faith.

7. How are you doing? How are you really doing?

Good & Bad. Good in that I can get up everyday and make it through another work day. Bad in that putting on a positive front is both physically and emotionally draining. After spending all day helping clients with their animals, I'm ready to go home and collapse. Yes I feel better than 3 months ago, but the approaching Holiday season has seemed to set be back quite a bit recently. The happy carefree people I see around me make me more and more bitter... but I guess life goes on everywhere right?

Olivia's Hope Collage

2009-11-28T01:22:00.001-05:00

A heartfelt thank you to Franchesca at Hope Collage for creating a wonderful collage for our little Olivia Anne. Please take a moment to visit her blog Handprints from Heaven honoring the memory of her beautiful daughter Jenna Belle.

Happy Thanksgiving?

2009-11-27T14:49:00.012-05:00

Yesterday as we sat down to a traditional Turkey Day meal it really hit home; Four chairs at the table, not five (or six). This time last year Sara's pregnancy was just getting to the "reality check" phase, only 3 months to go before our lives changed forever -- little did we know. It was a good holiday, building excitement, lots of food, lots of family, lots of love. Yesterday was a Holiday in name only. No excitement to speak of- only an emptiness - this is not how it was meant to be. The food was bountiful as always but was more a nutrition and tradition bound necessity, not a celebration of what we have. The family was even smaller than anticipated with Sara's Uncle hospitalized for heart troubles. The Love was still there, stronger than ever, but spiced with a sad gravity forged through communal struggles and tragedy. Tearfully, I raised my glass to our Little Love, toasting her memory, willing her spirit to feast with us.

Over the last week many posts, whether on Facebook or in the Blogosphere have focused on a "I am Thankful for X, Y,and Z" meme. I've turned this question over and over in my head for weeks , no actually months, but it's been brought into sharp focus with everyone listing their thanks. My knee-jerk reaction is that I'm not thankful for much right now; The best thing I've ever know has been taken from me forever making me very bitter so you can just F***off !!!
Of course this is not the truth of the matter, it's the pain talking, the constant flow of emotion carving a path through my soul like a never ending river slowly whittling a path through stone. As Bruce Springsteen says in I'm on Fire:

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby
Edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley
Through the middle of my soul

While currently the surface of my emotional river might churn and froth from the sharp rocks and boulders placed in its way, the constant emotional flow from its source slowly in time should smooth the jagged edges of these obstacles making them more comfortable to navigate in future years. This river springs from an eternal hopefulness that everything will work out. While some might ascribe this to faith in a god, at this time I'm not ready to accept that. (I have a whole post planned for Faith at some point... stay tuned).
So with no further delay here is my Modified I'm Thankful for List.

I'm thankful we had Olivia home for almost 6 months. I got to hold her, comfort her, have her sleep on my chest, change her diapers, feed her, bathe her, start to show her the world. I'm sorry I never got to see her walk or talk.
I'm thankful we got to 'know' Olivia. Her personality, her smile, her laugh/cackle, her temper. All the nurses would say "My she's feisty." I'm sorry I never got to explain to her that the poking that the doctors and nurses were doing was meant to help her.
I'm thankful some of my family got to meet and hold Olivia. My Dad and my middle brother (with wife & kids) were able to spend a wonderful weekend with Olivia. I'm sorry that my oldest brother couldn't make it out to meet her with his family.
I'm thankful my mother passed away before Olivia was born, watching Olivia be sick and pass away would have broken her heart. I'm sorry my mother never got to meet Olivia, they would have loved each other's company.
I'm thankful for everything that Olivia taught us; Strength, Courage, Grace. She made an impact on everyone she met in Real Life or through 'her' blog. I'm sorry that her passing brought heartache to so many people.
I'm extremely thankful for my beautiful and wonderful wife Sara. The strength, courage, and grace she has shown from early pregnancy to delivery to Olivia's surgeries to the funeral and burial to her grieving, has reaffirmed her as my soul mate in every way. I love You! Every step of the way we've been there for each other, there is no way I could have survived any of this without her strength. I'm sorry that I can't make the hurt go away, if there were a magic spell, a few words, a deal with the devil, I'd do it to see her soul whole again.
I'm extremely thankful for Sara's family, who have taken me in as one of their own from the start of my relationship with Sara, especially Barbara - Sara's mom. Olivia loved Grandma Barb, lighting up every time she saw Grandma. They had a unique bond, they needed each other. Barb was there at Olivia's birth, she was at Olivia's bedside for each surgery & hospitalization, she was the first at our side within minutes of Olivia's departure from this world. Barb, I'm sorry that your heart is broken, I wish I knew how to heal it.
I'm thankful for all our friends who have been patient, understanding, and helpful in this time of deep grief. I'm sorry that we aren't the people we used to be and never will be again. Hopefully you will accept us in our new skins.
I'm thankful (in a sad way) for all our fellow travelers on this road of grief. Sara and I have made more wonderful acquaintances, through Olivia's struggles with Alagille Syndrome and her subsequent death than we could have ever imagined. Finding people who understand what you're going through and what you're thinking has helped keep us sane. While we are all lonely in our grief and pain in our minds, we need not be alone. I'm sorry (in a happy way) that most of our friends 'just don't get it' and hopefully they never will.

Peace,
Ben

I hate Auto-Complete... or Ghosts Everywhere (Part 2)

2009-11-25T15:33:00.000-05:00

As I sat down to compose another entry, I clicked into the Title: line and was rudely distracted from the what I actually meant to post. I was confronted by a list of previously blogged topics, most of them from Olivia's Big Adventure. My computer was wondering if I wanted to use these titles... (again)... yeah thanks, but NO.

Quest for the Golden Elixer

when it was still easy to joke about trying to collect a urine sample from a 3 month old

On the Road Again... Again... and Again

heading back to Ann Arbor for yet another follow up Liver & Kidney visit

Stuck in a Rut... (part 1)

the last post before Olivia died talking about how well she was doing and following routines pictures of her at the zoo with her cousins
part 2 never made it to publication and was soon followed by

Dragonflies

Our first acceptance of Olivia in another form

Ghost Everywhere

rounds out the Auto-complete list so perfectly It

While at times this computer feature can be nice, obviously today it put me in a place I didn't want to be. I previously talked about the ghost I willingly surround myself with; pictures, a bouncy seat, a blanket. It's the ghost I don't control that can make life 'interesting.'

Yesterday we got another book in the mail for Olivia from the Dolly Parton Imagination Library, a great program that sends a book out monthly to children under 5 yrs old. Every month it catches me unprepared, yet every month I put off canceling because that book is another tie to Olivia. It keeps her memory alive, somewhere in someone else's computer she's just another little girl that just turned 9 months -- and that's fine with me. The Babies-R-Us mailers, the $5.00 off Enfamil or Similac , the never ending Holiday TV commercials hawking kids toys and showing the perfectly happy nuclear family, these all want to make me scream at times "Why are you doing this to me!!! Don't you know she's gone?!!" Slowly I'm getting better at swallowing my bile, I don't often flinch anymore when I come across these surprises. ... but today, not so much, I wanted my computer to understand it made me sad.

The Truth Is...

2009-11-22T20:04:00.006-05:00

I came across this while reading another blog (Dear Briana: Letters to Heaven). The original writing is attributed to C.E. Carney, RN.

"THE TRUTH IS..."

1.The truth ISN'T that you will feel "all better" in a couple of days, or weeks, or even months.
The truth IS that the days will be filled with an unending ache and the nights will feel one million sad years long for a while. Healing is attained only after the slow necessary progression through the stages of grief and mourning.

2.The truth isn't that a new pregnancy will help you forget.

The truth is that, while thoughts of a new pregnancy soon may provide hope, a lost infant deserves to be mourned just as you would have with anyone you loved. Grieving takes a lot of energy and can be both emotionally and physically draining. This could have an impact upon your health during another pregnancy. While the decision to try again is a very individualized one, being pregnant while still actively grieving is very difficult.

3.The truth isn't that pills or alcohol will dull the pain.

The truth is that they will merely postpone the reality you must eventually face in order to begin healing. However, if Your doctor feels that medication is necessary to help maintain your health, use it intelligently and according to his/her instructions.

4.The truth isn't that once this is over your life will be the same.

The truth is that your upside-down world will slowly settle down, hopefully leaving you a more sensitive, compassionate person, better prepared to handle the hard times that everyone must deal with sooner or later. When you consider that you have just experienced one of the worst things that can happen to a family, as you heal you will become aware of how strong you are.

5.The truth isn't that grieving is morbid, or a sign of weakness or mental instability.

The truth is that grieving is work that must be done. Now is the appropriate time. Allow yourself the time. Feel it, flow with it. Try not to fight it too often. It will get easier if you expect that it is variable, that some days are better than others. Be patient with yourself. There are no short cuts to healing. The active grieving will be over when all the work is done.

6.The truth isn't that grief is all-consuming.

The truth is that in the midst of the most agonizing time of your life, there will be laughter. Don't feel guilty. Laugh if you want to. Just as you must allow yourself the time to grieve, you must also allow yourself the time to laugh.Viewing laughter as part of the healing process, just as overwhelming sadness is now, will make the pain more bearable.

7.The truth isn't that one person can bear this alone.

The truth is that while only you can make the choices necessary to return to the mainstream of life a healed person, others in your life are also grieving and are feeling very helpless. As unfair as it may seem, the burden of remaining in contact with family and friends often falls on you. They are afraid to "butt in," or they may be fearful of saying or doing the wrong thing. This makes them feel even more helpless. They need to be told honestly what they can do to help. They don't need to be told, "I'm doing fine" when you're really NOT doing fine. By allowing others to share in your pain and assist you with your needs, you will be comforted and they will feel less helpless.

8.The truth isn't that God must be punishing you for something.

The truth is that sometimes these things just happen. They have happened to many people before you, and they will happen to many people after you. This was not an act of any God; it was an act of Nature. It isn't fair to blame God, or yourself, or anyone else. Try to understand that it is human nature to look for a place to put the blame, especially when there are so few answers to the question, "Why?" Sometimes there are answers. Most times there are not. Believing that you are being punished will only get in the way of your healing.

9.The truth isn't that you will be unable to make any choices or decisions during this time.

The truth is that while major decisions, such as moving or changing jobs, are better off being postponed for now, life goes on. It will be difficult, but decisions dealing with the death of your baby (seeing and naming the baby, arranging and/or attending a religious ritual, taking care of the nursery items you have acquired) are all choices you can make for yourself. Well-meaning people will try to shelter you from the pain of this. However, many of us who have suffered similar losses agree that these first decisions are very important. They help to make the loss real. Our brains filter out much of the pain early on as a way to protect us. Very soon after that, we find ourselves reliving the events over and over, trying to remember everything. This is another way that we acknowledge the loss. Until the loss is real, grieving cannot begin. Being involved at this early time will be a painful experience, but it will help you deal with your grief better as you progress by providing comforting memories of having performed loving, caring acts for your baby.

10.The truth isn't that you will be delighted to hear that a friend or other loved one has just given birth to a healthy baby.

The truth is that you may find it very difficult to be around mothers with young babies. You may be hurt, or angry, or jealous. You may wonder why you couldn't have had that joy. You may be resentful, or refuse to see friends with new babies. You may even secretly wish that the same thing would happen to someone else. You want someone to understand how it feels. You may also feel very ashamed that you could wish such things on people you love or care about, or think that you must be a dreadful person. You aren't. You're human, and even the most loving people can react this way when they are actively grieving. If the situations were reversed, your friends would be feeling and thinking the same things you are. Forgive yourself. It's OK. These feelings will eventually go away.

11.The truth isn't that all marriages survive this difficult time.

The truth is that sometimes you might blame one another, resent one another, or dislike being with one another. If you find this happening, get help. There are self-help groups available or grief counselors who can help. Don't ignore it or tuck it away assuming it will get better. It won't. Actively grieving people cannot help one another. It is unrealistic, like having two people who were blinded at the same time teach each other Braille. Talking it out with others may help. It might even save your marriage.

12.The truth isn't that eventually you will accept the loss of your baby and forget all about this awful time.

The truth is that acceptance is a word reserved for the understanding you come to when you've successfully grieved the loss of a parent, or a grandparent, or a beloved older relative. When you lose a child, your whole future has been affected, not your past. No one can really accept that. But there is resolution in the form of healing and learning how to cope. You will survive. Many of us who have gone through this type of grief are afraid we might forget about our babies once we begin to heal. This won't happen. You will always remember your precious baby because successful grieving carves a place in your heart where he or she will live forever.

Peace,

Ben

Ghosts Everywhere

2009-11-20T17:37:00.004-05:00

Shortly after Olivia's death I described her loss like this:

When Olivia was born in February our lives changed forever. Our regular routines and freedoms were thrown into chaos. Slowly over the next weeks Sara and I established nice routines all centered around Olivia - Feedings, Playtimes, Baths, Dr Visits, Medicines, Etc. We were satellites orbiting the center of our universe -- Olivia- a very bright star. When she left our world 3 weeks ago, our Sun, our Center, Our Focus was taken away. Sara and I lost our center, we lost our focus, we lost our Star. Hopefully someday we will find pleasure again in the freedoms that have returned -- finishing a meal uniterupted, sleeping in on the weekends, getting in the car w/o needing to 'load up.' These are freedoms we glady gave up and don't want back, but we have no say....

We are most definitely still objects in motion, as of yet without a purposeful orbit. I guess we could be considered space debris floating w/o purpose around where our star used to be. Travelling in the same orbit are many objects that hauntingly keep Olivia alive. Whether it's the last bottle I fed her the night she died still sitting in the fridge, her bouncy chair covered with her Lion Fleece blanket sitting by the Aquarium in our living room, the car seat base still in Sara's car, the desktop photo on my laptop staring at me, the Halloween costume she never got to wear, the bottle caddy in the dishwasher that's still there, a pink swaddling blanket tucked under my pillow, the silver angel pendant in my pocket I rub all day long, the Picture 'she' gave me for Father's day that I kiss every night before bed....

When can I let go? How can I let go? Do I want to let go of these ghosts? I'm afraid if any of these slip, I'm losing a piece of my precious baby. At first these ghost just brought a reminder of what we've lost. Now they occasionally bring a slight smile, reminding me of what we had and how good it was. I guess sometimes ghosts are good things.

What's in a Name?

2009-11-19T20:42:00.000-05:00

Since we lost Olivia 3 months ago the Dragonfly has come to symbolize her continued presence with us. Two weeks after her death Sara and I had one of those 'shake you to the core of your being' experiences. To this day thinking and talking about that Sunday morning gives me goose bumps.

Here is how I described the Dragonfly event at the time :

Sunday morning 2 weeks after Olivia passed away I noticed a large number of bugs flying around our back pasture. When Sara and I went out to investigate, we were overwhelmed by Dragonflies. There were probably 200 or more flying around in our couple acre pasture. We stood out there and marveled at a spectacle we had never seen before. In the 10+ years I have lived in this same house, never had I seen this many Dragonflies in one area.
As we stood and soaked in this display of gleaming wings and darting bodies, one large Dragonfly came up to us. It had an iridescent green body with a purple/blue sheen to it's tail. The wings were a transluscent silver, gleaming in the warm sun. It hovered in front of Sara's face for a few seconds, then it moved over to me and landed on my left shoulder. Soon it took off and dissapeared into the rest of the Dragonflies.

While looking around on the internet about dragonflies, we came across some interesting facts. Native Americans believe that Dragonflies represent renewal and can be messengers from the spirit world. The story below was also found in our search, somehow it feels very appropriate.

The Dragonfly
Once, in a little pond, in the muddy water under the lily pads,
there lived a little water beetle in a community of water
beetles. They lived a simple and comfortable life in the pond
with few disturbances and interruptions.
Once in a while, sadness would come to the community when one of
their fellow beetles would climb the stem of a lily pad and
would never be seen again. They knew when this happened; their
friend was dead, gone forever.
Then, one day, one little water beetle felt an irresistible urge
to climb up that stem. However, he was determined that he would
not leave forever. He would come back and tell his friends what
he had found at the top.
When he reached the top and climbed out of the water onto the
surface of the lily pad, he was so tired, and the sun felt so
warm, that he decided he must take a nap. As he slept, his body
changed and when he woke up, he had turned into a beautiful
blue-tailed dragonfly with broad wings and a slender body
designed for flying.
So, fly he did! And, as he soared he saw the beauty of a whole
new world and a far superior way of life to what he had never
known existed.
Then he remembered his beetle friends and how they were thinking
by now he was dead. He wanted to go back to tell them, and
explain to them that he was now more alive than he had ever been
before. His life had been fulfilled rather than ended.
But, his new body would not go down into the water. He could
not get back to tell his friends the good news. Then he
understood that their time would come, when they, too, would
know what he now knew. So, he raised his wings and flew off
into his joyous new life!
~Author Unknown~

Since then again and again a dragonfly has brought her back to us. Her Winnie the Pooh crib sheet has a small dragonfly zipping around Tigger's head, same with her little Winnie the Pooh Lamp (purchased at a different time). A little Tiffany style lamp bought for her room has an abstract dragonfly shape in the shade. I had purchased a little Flying Mobile, intending to get a bird, yet ended up with a dragonfly instead. A picture frame, a framed mirror, a window charm all dragonfly themed. None of these was chosen consciously for the presence of a dragonfly. Of course it is also a construct of our minds trying to find a connection to Olivia, a way back. I don't mind.

A Dragonfly's Embrace is where I want to be.

A place to think

2009-11-18T17:18:00.000-05:00

I plan to use this blog as a place to capture - or at least attempt to - the thoughts and feelings collecting in my mind since the death of our precious little Olivia in August of 2009 to Alagille Syndrome. Her story has been chronicled in detail on her blog. My posts here, while dealing with Olivia's death, just don't seem to belong on 'her blog,' a celebration of her life. I had been wanting to get back to writing for quite a while, I started numerous posts on Olivia's Blog but it never felt right.

I don't know what shape this blog will take in the long run, but I hope it can become a general conversation about grief and child loss with my fellow travelers on a road none of us chose willingly.

While floating through the ether earlier today I came across this post and this post from a couple grieving fathers. The haunting refrain of this love song made my heart ache once again....

"Chasing Cars" -- Snow Patrol

We'll do it all
Everything
On our own

We don't need
Anything
Or anyone

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel

Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads

I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see

I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?