The Memorial and Color

I hit a creative burst today.
It felt SO good to get creative and was very healing.
I am starting a greeting card line and can not wait to share my creations with everyone.

This weekend was Truman's memorial. I am still recovering from it.
It was a beautiful day, one that I will remember forever.
It was a beautiful day for Humboldt county, the sun warmed us all afternoon until the fog rolled in around 4:30pm.

The ceremony was beautiful, it was just what we wanted and needed.
My Dad wrote the ceremony and we just paid a woman to read it for us, so even though he wasn't physically here with us for the memorial, his words were.

Jeff designer Truman's wreath with sunflowers, moss, succulents and mums. I chose the last of the summer dahlias (in orange and red) to symbolize his Leo-ness.
The food was delicious. After dusk we all took our flying lanterns out to the beach and it was so much fun.

It was touching to dedicate all the lanterns to the babies that have left us too soon.... along with many lanterns for our Truman.

It was an amazing day. I had hoped that it would live up to be just a fraction as special as Truman was, as a tribute. I think we accomplished that.

I loved hanging out with some friends. I felt so very proud of Truman and felt very close to him all day long.

My friend Kayla said something to me that keeps echoing in my mind over and over. We were sitting in my house playing with her 4 month old baby girl and she said something like, "This is a family house. Truman prepared you in every way for a family, and just because you can't see him doesn't mean that that has changed." I felt a release when see said it for some reason. I felt so validated. This is a family house. I am a mother and I have a son. Its not the normal situation but nothing in my life has ever been normal. It may be hard for some people to understand because they can't see my son but it is our reality.

She also told me about her sister's friend. She was 35 weeks and pre-eclamptic. No one caught it. She seizured and her and the baby both died. Even though it is so sad to hear, it made me realize how lucky I am to be alive. Even if I am sad and saturated with grief, its important for me to make the most of everyday. You never know when you body will give up on you and it will be your last.

Once the visitors left and the house was back to ours, I felt a rush color come back into my mind.
A sort of partial awakening. Part of my brain that had been asleep for at least 6 months decided to wake up.

10/15/11 Truman's Memorial Lantern from Laura Beck on Vimeo.

Truman's Due Date. So well said.

Infant loss is nature's cruelest practical joke. It's investing all of the required time and effort into pregnancy, only to be robbed of the result. It's cradling a body that grew within your own and trying to reconcile the cold, lifeless form in your arms with your memory of the baby who turned double flips in your womb.

It's worrying that you'll forget what your child looked like and snapping an album's worth of photos that no one will ever ask to see. It's sobbing so hard you can't breathe and wondering if it's possible to cry yourself to death.

Infant loss is handing off a Moses basket to the nurse who's drawn the unfortunate duty of delivering your pride and joy to the morgue and walking out of a hospital with empty arms.

It's boxing up brand new baby clothes and buying a 24-inch casket. It's sifting through sympathy cards, willing your foolish body to stop lactating, clutching your baby's blanket to your chest in hopes of soothing the piercing ache in your heart.

It's resisting the urge to smack the clueless individuals who compare your situation to the death of their dog or who tell you you'll have another baby, as if children are somehow replaceable.

Infant loss is explaining to your 7-year-old that sometimes babies die and being stumped into silence when she asks you why. It's watching other families live out your happy ending and fighting a fresh round of grief with every milestone you miss.

It's being shut out of play groups for perpetuity. It's skipping social events with expectant and newly minted mothers because, as a walking worst-case scenario, you don't want to put a damper on the party.

It's listening to other women gripe about motherhood and realizing that you no longer relate to their petty parental complaints because, frankly, when you've buried a baby, a sleepless night with a vomiting toddler sounds something like a gift.

Infant loss is pruning from your life the friends and relatives who ignore or minimize your loss. It's recognizing that, while they may not mean to be hurtful, the fact that they don't know any better doesn't make their utter lack of empathy one whit easier to bear.

My baby girl would have been 5 years old this month. I don't know what she'd look like, what her favorite food would be. I've never had the privilege of tucking her into bed, taking her to the zoo or kissing her boo-boos. I will never watch her graduate or walk down the aisle.

Infant loss is more than an empty cradle. It's a life sentence.

Laura Schubert of New Berlin

Truman's Due Date

Today is my due date.
I feel like its a disappointment on so many levels.
I will forever envy those women who are bitching away about how they are a week past their due date and wanting the baby to come.
I'm holding Truman in my mind and feeling his soft little blonde head brush my cheek.
I would do anything to be with him again.
Some how I'm grieving in another new way. I already miss that bracket of time between when he was born and today. Like it held me closer to him and our story together.
I know logically that it didn't but now that the bracket has ended, I really do feel outside of the parenthesis. The rest of time will feel like this.

I have been having a really hard time controlling my emotions this week.
I'm feeling so very fragile.
I've had many moments where my head starts to spin because its all just too much.
So much anger and sadness.
On top of it, I don't have the most peaceful situation going on at home right now. Privacy is something that is very very important to me, especially when I'm hurting. Its just who I am, I'm a Cancerian, i like to withdraw and hide.
One of Jeff's best friends, M is living up in the mountains here for a while, which is about 2 hours from us.
M and his girlfriend came to visit us on friday and one of their dogs Ruby was very sick.
She was straining to deficate and vocalizing in pain.
I'm not sure if I have posted yet about my inability to see animals in pain lately, so I'll just re-itterate if I have.
I am a Vet Tech, I went to college for it, I am NYS board certified to practice (which is no easy feat), and I was doing well with my career when I got pregnant with Truman. I decided to lay off of the Veterinary medicine thing while pregnant due to the radiation from X-rays, the chemicals, the drugs, the gases from surgery, the parasites, etc. If you ask me a Vet hospital is no place for a pregnant woman, you're pretty much useless.
Anyways, now, after everything that Truman and I went through, all the suffering, I can not see an animal in pain. It literally feels like my soul is breaking.
Its crazy because I thought that I was meant to heal animals. But my emotional capacity is full which leaves me torn. I have a strong desire to help them because i know that I'm good at it and they need people to help them and then there is the clear realization that if i tried it would push me to a very bad place.
Maybe with time. But for now and the near future, no way. and this leaves me having no idea what to do with myself and my future. I very much identify myself as being a Tech. Who am i now? I have no idea.

This is why I don't like leaving the house. Its either something in pain, or a baby in my face, or a laughing child, or someone being rude to me and I just can not handle any of it. The whole situation was very hard for me.

So, the dog. Her name is Ruby. and she was in PAIN. As soon as I saw her my empathic soul was breaking. Her pain was pulsating at me. They had just picked her up from a Vet down in Garberville.... which for those of you who don't know, its way more country down there then here.

I felt panicked for Ruby and I knew something was wrong. Seeing her in so much pain deeply bothered and upset me. The Vet said that she was just constipated but I was not believeing it for a second. I knew there was a blockage somewhere. She was just way too visiably in angony to just be constipated.

She had spent the night at the Garberville Vet's and it was beyond me that they sent her home when she was in that much pain. So I started asking them questions and the Vet did not take x-rays, she did not give any fluids, she did nothing for Ruby's pain besides try and enema.
I had to tell my friends that they just paid some shitty Vet to do absolutly nothing to help their dog. I usually don't judge Vets, I'm usually on their side, they usually know way more then I do but not this time. I just don't understand why the Vet would keep her over night and not give fluids and not take an X-ray. Its just not logical at all. She had been vocalizing then and visibly in excruciating pain.

Long story short, after she barked in pain all. night. long. trying to poop but nothing coming out I talked them into taking her to another Vet here in town for a second opinion.
Ruby was making it pretty obvious that she had a blockage.

Turns out I was right. She has a serious blockage in her rectum, the Vet took x-rays and got her on fluids and gave her something for her discomfort so she could finally sleep. Poor girl had been crying in pain for 4 days at this point.

So basically, their Vet bill keeps going up and up and up because Ruby is hospitalized as they try and try and try to unblock her. They come home every day from visiting her, with stress in their eyes and talk with me about their concerns. and honestly it brings back memories about me and Truman in the hospital and honestly I can not take it. and I don't want to see it and I don't want to be near it. but I also can not be rude and heartless, so i listen. and they are still here, staying at my house. its been 6 days.

and I am starting to lose it.
and i feel really guilty about not being able to take it.
because M is our good friend.

Our house is very very small. Its basically a studio apartment with a small sitting room down stairs.
All I want is quiet and privacy.
It has been days of me wanting this. not even wanting, but needing.
I have to keep it together when they are here.
When every time they leave to go see Ruby in the hospital I just break down and cry because I'm finally alone to let it out.
I know that I could cry in front of them, but I don't want to. I just don't feel comfortable doing that.

I wanted this to be over by my due date so that I could spend my day alone, with Truman in heart.
and now, not only do I not have Truman but I don't even get that.

I feel so guilty for feeling this way.
its honestly the last thing that I need right now.
I feel so conflicted because I want to be a good friend but I also feel like its making me lose my mind.

Sometimes, there is SO much going on inside of me and I control it all, at least attempt to, so much that
But i can't say anything, because I know that would stress them out. and i'd be filled with guilt.

I wish so much that I could take a vacation from grief.
I'm so confused and tired all of the time.
I feel like I just need some protecting from the world for a little while.

At this very moment I feel very sorry for myself. For so many reasons.
I can't help but feel like i'm going to fail horribly at learning how to live a normal life with all of this pain.

I love Truman, my sweet boy, so much. Man, it feels good to weep and let some of this out.
I really hope the weather is nice on Saturday for his memorial.

 

A person is still a person, no matter how small

Truman Montgomery Clerc.

I first felt my boy move inside me at 9 weeks. Which is very early for a first pregnancy. Looking back i am so grateful that I could feel him so early on. Every day was a gift with him.

He loved banjo music. Jeff would play for him and he would get so active.

I couldn't get enough mangoes or blueberries when I was pregnant with him.

Whales, Quails and Lions remind us of our boy.
When I first had signs of Pre-eclampsia, a Grey Whale and her calf were spotted in the Klamath river here, where we live. Everyone was SO psyched about these whales. So we went to the river to see them for ourselves the week that I was emergency flown to San Fran. I took one look at the mother and calf and my stomach dropped. I knew something was very wrong. She had a pattern to her movement. Fish and Wildlife had tried to move her back down the river but she wasn't having it. I remember wishing so much to talk with a Marine Mammal specialist and volunteer my help to help her but I was so very pregnant. Everyone else was elated that they were there and I started talking with some of the other locals. I started to be more direct with them saying that she is an ocean animal and that she was basically starving to death by living in a fresh water river. This didn't seem to click with a lot of people. Long story short, the week that I came home from the hospital the baby whale left his mother and headed out to the ocean and his mother passed away in the river alone shortly after. I felt such a huge connection to those whales. I knew that they were in trouble, I knew that i was in trouble. I think about that baby and how it knew how to navigate back to the ocean and how hard it must have been to leave his mother. I still think about that baby and where he may be now and wonder if he survived. But clearly the mother knew that she was sick and knew that she had a calf that was still nursing and so she went to the river for safety so the killer whales wouldn't harm her baby. What mother's instinctively do for their children is amazing. The timing of the Klamath whales was very symbolic to me. I cried so hard when I heard that she had passed away. I'll never forget them as long as I live.

Truman was most active at night time, I used to fall asleep to him moving inside of me. It was by far the most comforting feeling in the world to fall asleep to.
Even when we in the hospital, he would always move off of the monitor at night, or have a "decell" at night. He died at 5:13am.... to me, thats night, it was still dark out.

He loved the movie theater, especially action films. The most active I ever felt him was at the movie "Thor".

He was a sweet, calm and curious baby. He would be moving around and there would be a loud sound and he would freeze and wait for it again and then go back to moving all over. I always imagined him lifting an ear in curiosity.

He loved it the most when I would talk all high pitched to the dogs and be goofy with them.

i saw him yawn once during an ultrasound.

I say that he was calm because I sensed it from the way that he moved inside of me. Even at his most active there was something sleepy about him.... kind of like Jeff in that sense.

He was sweet. I was surprised at how affectionate that he was at 29 weeks when he came out. The last time that I touched him while he was conscious he was sweeping his feet back and forth on my hand. Almost like playing footsie. I remember being touched by it.

He slept with one eye cracked open, his right eye, just like Jeff. I am adopted so for me to see genetics at work that close to my heart was amazing, it blew my mind.

Truman had Jeff's upper lip, my lower. My chin, my forehead, my eye setting and structure but Jeff's shape. He had Jeff's skin coloration, ears, arms, palms, chest, legs and feet but my fingers, toes and hair. I couldn't tell whose nose he had, I think it was a mix of both of ours.

I've never been a plant person but when I was pregnant with him every single flower stood out to me.

He loved the song "This must be the place (Naive Melody). Which is now painfully ironic because of the lyrics, they hit very close to home.
On the way home from the hospital a cover of the song was on the radio, this song is NEVER on the radio, so again with the weird timing.

I'm missing my sweet boy. Today and always. I wish so much that we had more time together.




Home is where I want to be
Pick me up and turn me round
I feel numb - born with a weak heart
(So I) guess I must be having fun
The less we say about it the better
Make it up as we go along
Feet on the ground
Head in the sky
It's ok I know nothing's wrong . . nothing

Hi yo I got plenty of time
Hi yo you got light in your eyes
And you're standing here beside me
I love the passing of time
Never for money
Always for love
Cover up say goodnight . . . say goodnight

Home - is where I want to be
But I guess I'm already there
I come home she lifted up her wings
Guess that this must be the place
I can't tell one from the other
Did I find you, or you find me?
There was a time Before we were born
If someone asks, this where I'll be . . . where I'll be

Hi yo We drift in and out
Hi yo sing into my mouth
Out of all those kinds of people
You got a face with a view
I'm just an animal looking for a home
Share the same space for a minute or two
And you love my till my heart stops
Love me till I'm dead
Eyes that light up, eyes look through you
Cover up the blank spots
Hit me on the head
Ah ooh

The night's have been clear lately here. Which is not typical at all. I keep looking at the moon like an old friend who I haven't seen in a while and thinking, this is the moon that my baby should have been born under. Its a waxing moon and by the time that its full, it will be my due date.


Francesca Cox is a wonderful person in the baby loss community who, like me, finds healing in blogging.
Tonight she wrote this on her blog:

“People have told me that time heals, but I don’t think there’s an ounce of truth in that. The more time that passes, the less I understand all the crap that happens in life. The more time that passes, the less things make sense. I have found healing to be a choice, not a reaction to time.”

I said something along the same lines the other day to my acupuncturist. Her response was “Well, your right in the thick of it, right now.” Meaning, my grief is fresh and new and potent so its probably hard to see how it will be in the future. But honestly I can’t see how it will ever lessen with time unless I actively work hard at finding peace and healing. Its just way to easy to give into the rip current of emotions with a loss like this. Its all consuming, takes over your mind, your heart, your ambitions and plans. I have chosen to heal. But I do think it will be a battle for the rest of my life.

I have been going through songs to decide which I will play at Truman's memorial. This song reminds me of how the full moon will always remind me of Truman from now on. The other songs on here are songs that I may play at his memorial.

"and ahh that full bellied moon she’s a shinin on me

yeah she pulls on this heart like she pulls on the sea

and you came on strong like some running wave
and your beauty left me broke and hungry
left me begging to the birds for a bone or an offering
left me saying nothin, nothin, like i always say

and ahh that full bellied moon she’s a shinin on me
yeah she pulls on this heart like she pulls on the sea

and those broken hearted lovers,
they got nothing on me"

"See the pyramids along the Nile
Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle
Just remember darlin' all the while
You belong to me

See the market place in Old Algiers
Send me photographs and souvenirs
Just remember when a dream appears
You belong to me

I'll be so alone without you
Maybe you'll be lonesome too, and blue

Fly the ocean in a silver plane
See the jungle when it's wet with rain
Just remember 'til you're home again
You belong to me

(I'll be so alone without you
Maybe you'll be lonesome too, and blue)

Fly the ocean in a silver plane
See the jungle when it's wet with rain
Just remember 'til you're home again
You belong to me"

A Patsy Cline cover by Brandy Carlile

"Ashokan Farewell"

"Mother Earth and Father Time"

As corny as some of my Buffalo friends are going to probably think this is, i don't care, I'm posting it. ;P I would not play this at Truman's Memorial Service but some one suggested it to me. Being from Buffalo, I kind of always brushed off the Goo Goo Dolls. I can not believe how much the lyrics to this song feel like they were written for someone suffering baby loss.
While I was listening to the song I thought about leaving the hospital without Truman and how completely fucked that felt. Like I was leaving him and so scared of what was a head of me.

If any one has any other suggestions for a song appropriate for Truman's memorial, please leave me a comment. <3

Remembrance Cards

I have spent the past 3 days working on Truman's remembrance cards for his memorial next weekend.

On the back is the "I carry your heart" poem by e.e. cummings and a letter that we wrote to Truman.

I decided that I enjoy doing it and I'd like to design Remembrance Cards for people who are non-religious. Keep me in mind if someone you know needs non-religious Remembrance Cards for a Funeral or Memorial Service!

Today actually felt like fall in NY here. I woke up and it was cloudy, that dark grey sky color that makes all the other colors pop, followed by a few claps of thunder and heavy rain. Now the sun is peeking out but the air is crisp. I haven't been this homesick for Buffalo for as long as I can remember, maybe ever.

I spent the morning wondering if today would be the day that Truman would have come if I didn't get pre-eclampsia. I'll never know because its not what happened.
I feel like I sort of lost my mind the past few days and I'm coming out of it now. It was a jumble of chaotic thoughts and energy that I didn't know was there until I started to feel it leave.

A fellow baby loss momma wrote this.... I thought it was very well written.

This Is Grief

by JESSICA on OCTOBER 2, 2011 

Lifting my eyes to the sun, I blink the world quiet.

Ribboning waves thread to sands of silk.

Golden rays and the tickle of giggles brush me with warmth.

This is perfection.

But this is grief.

Grief is standing in the most beautiful place you have ever known,

walking as close to heaven as you are far.

Picturing the rise and the fall of breath you can’t feel across your cheek.

Sensing the weight of a head of curls that will never brush your shoulder.

Reaching for a hand that should fit perfectly in yours but never will

and listening for a heartbeat that stopped long ago.

Grief is anchored in an air full of longing

and lost dreams

and missed birthdays.

Grief is the pull of waves that keeps you from dancing on the shore.

One of Jeff's birthday presents

It's a surprise, so don't tell him about it....

But, he has been searching for just the right photo album for all of Truman's photographs and ultrasound pictures.

Whales remind Jeff of Truman, so I had this made for him :)

Think he'll like it!?