28 years ago today...
Let me preface this blog: It is about child loss. It may trigger you and make you sad. That isn't what my intention is, but today is the 28th anniversary of the death of my sister and I have caught some feels that have never hit me this hard before. Feels that have unearthed emotions that I have been suppressing. So, there's your warning. This blog is not light-hearted. Right now I am writing with a heavy heart and tears blurring my vision as I remember not just my sister, but also the 4 out of 5 pregnancies that ended too soon.
Whenever I am asked how many siblings I have, I always answer that I am the eldest of 9 children - 5 sisters and 3 brothers. I never really break it down to "I have 5 siblings with the same mom but different father. I have 1 sibling who shares both mother and father with me. I have 1 sibling who has the same dad. I have 2 siblings who share no blood ties to me but are a part of my mother's 3rd marriage. Oh, and one of my sisters that shares a mother with me but not a father died as an infant."
First, that is a lot of information for someone who hasn't been involved to process. Second, it really isn't their business how my family is made up. Third, people tend to get really quiet and apologetic when they hear me mention my sister who died. They also get quiet if I say I have been pregnant 5 times but only have 1 living child. Infant loss, child loss, miscarriage, stillbirth, conditions incompatible with life - these things tend to be spoken in hushed tones if they are spoken at all.
So, I am the eldest of 9 children with 5 sisters and 3 brothers.
Moreover, I am the mother of 5 with only one living child. So not only have I dealt with child loss as a sibling, but I have also experienced that deep pain that comes when the doctor informed me that there was no fetal growth and an almost non-existent heartbeat, that my pregnancy was going to end. Again.
The very first time I remember seeing a dead person was the day of my sister's funeral. In fact, in the entirety of her very short life, I don't remember seeing her alive. There was a very good reason for this -my brother I had become sick with a severe case of chickenpox (this was before the vaccine). We also managed to add pertussis to the mix, because what can be more fun than to have a painful cough that makes it hard to breathe AND chickenpox blisters everywhere (even on the soles of my feet, palms of my hands, in my ears, and even a few in my mouth). Simply put, we were both too sick to stay near the baby so my mother decided it was best that we go live with our father.
I remember the guidance counselor coming to fetch me from my 3rd-grade class and my brother from kindergarten.
**Side note: yes, I was 6 at the time - I skipped 1st and 2nd because they were not challenging enough for me.
My father broke the news about my sister and took us out of school until after the funeral. The thing is, I remember I didn't cry or get upset. I barely knew my sister, so to me, it was similar (at that point) to learning your friend's neighbor's uncle died. I understood on a high level what it meant that my sister died but it felt far away.
A few days later, we attended her funeral. She had the tiniest casket, like the size of a bassinet. It was white with gold trim, lined with white silk and lace. They had put her in her Christening Gown with a tiny white bonnet that tied under her chin. She didn't look dead. She looked asleep - like any moment she would wake and cry to be fed. She never did, though.
I didn't even cry or show any type of upset at her funeral. At 6, I was the only person not crying, even when I went up to the casket and touched her tiny hand. Some of the other attendees actually told my mother (in front of me) that there was something seriously wrong with me if I can lose a sibling and not be upset. That I needed psychiatric help to be a "normal child". A normal child would cry. My brother and sister cried. My family cried. I didn't. When asked why I wasn't upset, I told people I didn't even know her or I didn't think my being upset would help anything, it wouldn't make her alive again.
I know my lack of expected emotions hurt my mother deeply. It continues to do so, although she also knows that my childhood experiences make it very hard to express my emotions. Even though I have been out of that situation for 17 years, I still struggle to express my feelings because that hypervigilant part of my brain keeps telling me if I show or say how I feel, people will use it to hurt me.
After the funeral, they had my sister cremated and put in a pretty pink urn with a sleeping baby on it. My mother slept with that urn for 3 years after my sister died. Every year, the rest of my family mourns her birth and death. I don't. I pay my respects for the dead in a different way. To this day, while the rest of my siblings and my mother mourn, I remember what she looked like the only time I ever saw her in person. I remember how she looked in that oh so tiny casket. I remember the funeral vividly. But I don't cry for her.
The first time I saw a + sign on a pregnancy test, I was 19 and married. We weren't sure if we were ready yet, but decided to give it a go anyway. At 12 weeks, the military deployed my husband to Iraq. At 12 weeks and 3 days, I started bleeding heavily and cramping so badly I went to the emergency room. That was the first time I saw physical proof of pregnancy. It was also the first day that I heard "I'm so sorry, but I cannot find a heartbeat. You are having a miscarriage."
Did you know that the red cross won't contact a deployed parent for a miscarriage? They won't even call unless the fetus had reached viability prior to death. I couldn't contact my husband because he was in a communications blackout due to where he was stationed. So I did the only thing I could think of - I called his First Sergeant, who then called the Squadron Commander, who then pushed the situation to the Base Commander. Within 3 hours of calling his First Sergeant, I found myself standing in the base commander's office because he had pushed through to make sure my husband could call me. They also somehow got in touch with the Spouses clubs (enlisted and office). That spirit of community was touching. They brought me food so I didn't need to cook, they cleaned my house, they came over just to talk over coffee. It helped to have that sense of community after a loss.
Pregnancy #2
I was 21 when I miscarried a second time, this time the fetus was just barely nine weeks but at least my husband was with me. We were outside on the patio when one of my friends noticed that there was a lot of blood under my lawn chair. The hospital confirmed that I was miscarrying again and sent me home to let it happen naturally with a warning that if I started running a fever that I should come back in. I was numb but at least this time my husband was there to support me
Pregnancy #3
By this point, I was so heartbroken that I didn't want to try again, so I started on a birth control pill. It worked just fine, right up until it didn't work and I found myself pregnant again. This time, I didn't get excited over the positive pregnancy test. I didn't even tell anyone but my husband that there was a positive pregnancy test. He was just as worried as I was. At 16 weeks and 5 days, a normal prenatal checkup revealed that the fetus had abnormalities that are typically not compatible with life- he did not develop a brain and the rest of his tiny body was not developing correctly. They scheduled an amnio, but I never had the procedure.
My 3rd baby, my son, died within hours of that appointment. I returned for a D & C the next day. I did not hold him or even see his body. We had his remains cremated and I mixed his ashes with paint. I created a painting in his honor. I was 23 at this point. I started asking about more permanent birth control. I begged my husband to get a vasectomy. But wouldn't you know it - Many doctors will not perform permanent sterilization before a certain age if it's not a medical necessity?
Pregnancy #4
My 4th time pregnant is also the only pregnancy that went full term. My beautiful rainbow baby, my perfect little girl was born during a blizzard. It was -29 Fahrenheit out with a windchill factor that made it "feel like" -50 Fahrenheit. It was damn cold, even in the birthing room. I was so relieved when she came out screaming at the top of her lungs and peed on her father. The months leading up to her arrival were a nightmare for me. Thanks to the losses leading up to her conception, every little thing sent me into a panic attack. Going to my prenatal checks, dreading that this time they wouldn't find the heartbeat of the child I wanted so badly. At 15 weeks and 4 days, I started bleeding and cramping again. It felt like we were dragging my heart behind the car as we sped to the nearest emergency room. When we arrived, I was in full panic mode. But this time, they were able to find a heartbeat. They took me for an ultrasound and found that the placenta was mostly covering my cervix, which was the cause of the bleeding and pain. They also told us that they were 100% sure I was carrying a daughter. I cried watching her move around like a little acrobat on the ultrasound.
This pregnancy was hard. I called the OB hundreds of times to make sure what I was feeling was normal. I was losing weight instead of gaining thanks to non-stop all day sickness. I would randomly start bleeding, which of course would send me into a panic. When I started to feel her movements, I was obsessed with the 'kick count' and would panic if I didn't feel her kick for a few hours. I was a mess emotionally because I had already learned there are no guarantees with pregnancy.
But in the end, I took home a healthy baby girl who has grown into a healthy child.
And you know how I didn't really feel anything when my sister died? Well, all of those memories came at me like a swarm of bees. I barely slept, even though she was an easy, happy baby who latched on to breastfeed within a minute of the doctor handing her to me. I stayed awake while she slept, constantly checking to make sure she was still breathing. I wasn't taking care of myself very well. Anxiety over the possibility of losing my baby was eating me alive. If I fell asleep during my vigil for even a few minutes, I would wake in a panic
It took me a year and change before I was able to stop panicking and simply enjoy being with my baby.
Pregnancy #5
Three years after my daughter was born, her father and I divorced. He remarried and had more children, I moved to my parent's house with my daughter. We had been separated for a year when I started dating again. We started dating while my daughter was visiting her father. He stated multiple times that he didn't want kids... Then he met my daughter. Then it changed from "I don't want kids" to "I don't want kids of my own."
We had been dating for about a year and a half before he decided it was too much for him and he left. I was sad but grateful that he waited to leave until my daughter wasn't there. Then I missed my cycle and 4 different pregnancy tests showed positive. I wasn't even sure how I wanted to move forward or if I wanted to tell him. I hadn't spoken to him for more than a month. 5 weeks after he left, I miscarried again. 3 days after I miscarried, he called because he wanted to talk and he wanted a ride to work. He said something along the lines of "well, at least you aren't pregnant." I responded without really thinking about it with a quiet "not anymore." He was stunned to silence for several minutes before asking:
"Would you have told me if I hadn't brought it up?"
"No, probably not."
"Why"
"Because we aren't together anymore. If the outcome had been different, I would have"
He was very quiet for the rest of the car ride. To this day, he never mentions the baby that almost was. He became a boomerang boyfriend, someone who would leave every time things got serious or changed then come back after a bit full of apologies and regrets. He left again a few months ago.
So, 28 years after my sister died in her sleep, I now understand that the pain and heartache that comes from losing a child stays with you always. I understand my mother's grief over losing Jessica to SIDS. My grief may not be as visible, but my heart aches for those 4 little lives that never had a chance to be. The ones that never had names, that I never held in my arms.
I don't want another pregnancy. I don't have a need to give my daughter a sibling - her father and step-mother have given her plenty. I want to make sure it is not possible, but so far no doctor will perform the procedure. They think I will change my mind. I think I've had enough heartache for one lifetime. But hey, that is what you get when you aren't the one in control of your healthcare thanks to people who think that the government needs to regulate your uterus. But that's a discussion for another time.
Whenever I am asked how many siblings I have, I always answer that I am the eldest of 9 children - 5 sisters and 3 brothers. I never really break it down to "I have 5 siblings with the same mom but different father. I have 1 sibling who shares both mother and father with me. I have 1 sibling who has the same dad. I have 2 siblings who share no blood ties to me but are a part of my mother's 3rd marriage. Oh, and one of my sisters that shares a mother with me but not a father died as an infant."
First, that is a lot of information for someone who hasn't been involved to process. Second, it really isn't their business how my family is made up. Third, people tend to get really quiet and apologetic when they hear me mention my sister who died. They also get quiet if I say I have been pregnant 5 times but only have 1 living child. Infant loss, child loss, miscarriage, stillbirth, conditions incompatible with life - these things tend to be spoken in hushed tones if they are spoken at all.
So, I am the eldest of 9 children with 5 sisters and 3 brothers.
Moreover, I am the mother of 5 with only one living child. So not only have I dealt with child loss as a sibling, but I have also experienced that deep pain that comes when the doctor informed me that there was no fetal growth and an almost non-existent heartbeat, that my pregnancy was going to end. Again.
Jessica
The very first time I remember seeing a dead person was the day of my sister's funeral. In fact, in the entirety of her very short life, I don't remember seeing her alive. There was a very good reason for this -my brother I had become sick with a severe case of chickenpox (this was before the vaccine). We also managed to add pertussis to the mix, because what can be more fun than to have a painful cough that makes it hard to breathe AND chickenpox blisters everywhere (even on the soles of my feet, palms of my hands, in my ears, and even a few in my mouth). Simply put, we were both too sick to stay near the baby so my mother decided it was best that we go live with our father.
I remember the guidance counselor coming to fetch me from my 3rd-grade class and my brother from kindergarten.
**Side note: yes, I was 6 at the time - I skipped 1st and 2nd because they were not challenging enough for me.
My father broke the news about my sister and took us out of school until after the funeral. The thing is, I remember I didn't cry or get upset. I barely knew my sister, so to me, it was similar (at that point) to learning your friend's neighbor's uncle died. I understood on a high level what it meant that my sister died but it felt far away.
A few days later, we attended her funeral. She had the tiniest casket, like the size of a bassinet. It was white with gold trim, lined with white silk and lace. They had put her in her Christening Gown with a tiny white bonnet that tied under her chin. She didn't look dead. She looked asleep - like any moment she would wake and cry to be fed. She never did, though.
I didn't even cry or show any type of upset at her funeral. At 6, I was the only person not crying, even when I went up to the casket and touched her tiny hand. Some of the other attendees actually told my mother (in front of me) that there was something seriously wrong with me if I can lose a sibling and not be upset. That I needed psychiatric help to be a "normal child". A normal child would cry. My brother and sister cried. My family cried. I didn't. When asked why I wasn't upset, I told people I didn't even know her or I didn't think my being upset would help anything, it wouldn't make her alive again.
I know my lack of expected emotions hurt my mother deeply. It continues to do so, although she also knows that my childhood experiences make it very hard to express my emotions. Even though I have been out of that situation for 17 years, I still struggle to express my feelings because that hypervigilant part of my brain keeps telling me if I show or say how I feel, people will use it to hurt me.
After the funeral, they had my sister cremated and put in a pretty pink urn with a sleeping baby on it. My mother slept with that urn for 3 years after my sister died. Every year, the rest of my family mourns her birth and death. I don't. I pay my respects for the dead in a different way. To this day, while the rest of my siblings and my mother mourn, I remember what she looked like the only time I ever saw her in person. I remember how she looked in that oh so tiny casket. I remember the funeral vividly. But I don't cry for her.
The ones I hold in my heart but never in my arms
Pregnancy #1The first time I saw a + sign on a pregnancy test, I was 19 and married. We weren't sure if we were ready yet, but decided to give it a go anyway. At 12 weeks, the military deployed my husband to Iraq. At 12 weeks and 3 days, I started bleeding heavily and cramping so badly I went to the emergency room. That was the first time I saw physical proof of pregnancy. It was also the first day that I heard "I'm so sorry, but I cannot find a heartbeat. You are having a miscarriage."
Did you know that the red cross won't contact a deployed parent for a miscarriage? They won't even call unless the fetus had reached viability prior to death. I couldn't contact my husband because he was in a communications blackout due to where he was stationed. So I did the only thing I could think of - I called his First Sergeant, who then called the Squadron Commander, who then pushed the situation to the Base Commander. Within 3 hours of calling his First Sergeant, I found myself standing in the base commander's office because he had pushed through to make sure my husband could call me. They also somehow got in touch with the Spouses clubs (enlisted and office). That spirit of community was touching. They brought me food so I didn't need to cook, they cleaned my house, they came over just to talk over coffee. It helped to have that sense of community after a loss.
Pregnancy #2
I was 21 when I miscarried a second time, this time the fetus was just barely nine weeks but at least my husband was with me. We were outside on the patio when one of my friends noticed that there was a lot of blood under my lawn chair. The hospital confirmed that I was miscarrying again and sent me home to let it happen naturally with a warning that if I started running a fever that I should come back in. I was numb but at least this time my husband was there to support me
Pregnancy #3
By this point, I was so heartbroken that I didn't want to try again, so I started on a birth control pill. It worked just fine, right up until it didn't work and I found myself pregnant again. This time, I didn't get excited over the positive pregnancy test. I didn't even tell anyone but my husband that there was a positive pregnancy test. He was just as worried as I was. At 16 weeks and 5 days, a normal prenatal checkup revealed that the fetus had abnormalities that are typically not compatible with life- he did not develop a brain and the rest of his tiny body was not developing correctly. They scheduled an amnio, but I never had the procedure.
My 3rd baby, my son, died within hours of that appointment. I returned for a D & C the next day. I did not hold him or even see his body. We had his remains cremated and I mixed his ashes with paint. I created a painting in his honor. I was 23 at this point. I started asking about more permanent birth control. I begged my husband to get a vasectomy. But wouldn't you know it - Many doctors will not perform permanent sterilization before a certain age if it's not a medical necessity?
Pregnancy #4
My 4th time pregnant is also the only pregnancy that went full term. My beautiful rainbow baby, my perfect little girl was born during a blizzard. It was -29 Fahrenheit out with a windchill factor that made it "feel like" -50 Fahrenheit. It was damn cold, even in the birthing room. I was so relieved when she came out screaming at the top of her lungs and peed on her father. The months leading up to her arrival were a nightmare for me. Thanks to the losses leading up to her conception, every little thing sent me into a panic attack. Going to my prenatal checks, dreading that this time they wouldn't find the heartbeat of the child I wanted so badly. At 15 weeks and 4 days, I started bleeding and cramping again. It felt like we were dragging my heart behind the car as we sped to the nearest emergency room. When we arrived, I was in full panic mode. But this time, they were able to find a heartbeat. They took me for an ultrasound and found that the placenta was mostly covering my cervix, which was the cause of the bleeding and pain. They also told us that they were 100% sure I was carrying a daughter. I cried watching her move around like a little acrobat on the ultrasound.
This pregnancy was hard. I called the OB hundreds of times to make sure what I was feeling was normal. I was losing weight instead of gaining thanks to non-stop all day sickness. I would randomly start bleeding, which of course would send me into a panic. When I started to feel her movements, I was obsessed with the 'kick count' and would panic if I didn't feel her kick for a few hours. I was a mess emotionally because I had already learned there are no guarantees with pregnancy.
But in the end, I took home a healthy baby girl who has grown into a healthy child.
And you know how I didn't really feel anything when my sister died? Well, all of those memories came at me like a swarm of bees. I barely slept, even though she was an easy, happy baby who latched on to breastfeed within a minute of the doctor handing her to me. I stayed awake while she slept, constantly checking to make sure she was still breathing. I wasn't taking care of myself very well. Anxiety over the possibility of losing my baby was eating me alive. If I fell asleep during my vigil for even a few minutes, I would wake in a panic
It took me a year and change before I was able to stop panicking and simply enjoy being with my baby.
Pregnancy #5
Three years after my daughter was born, her father and I divorced. He remarried and had more children, I moved to my parent's house with my daughter. We had been separated for a year when I started dating again. We started dating while my daughter was visiting her father. He stated multiple times that he didn't want kids... Then he met my daughter. Then it changed from "I don't want kids" to "I don't want kids of my own."
We had been dating for about a year and a half before he decided it was too much for him and he left. I was sad but grateful that he waited to leave until my daughter wasn't there. Then I missed my cycle and 4 different pregnancy tests showed positive. I wasn't even sure how I wanted to move forward or if I wanted to tell him. I hadn't spoken to him for more than a month. 5 weeks after he left, I miscarried again. 3 days after I miscarried, he called because he wanted to talk and he wanted a ride to work. He said something along the lines of "well, at least you aren't pregnant." I responded without really thinking about it with a quiet "not anymore." He was stunned to silence for several minutes before asking:
"Would you have told me if I hadn't brought it up?"
"No, probably not."
"Why"
"Because we aren't together anymore. If the outcome had been different, I would have"
He was very quiet for the rest of the car ride. To this day, he never mentions the baby that almost was. He became a boomerang boyfriend, someone who would leave every time things got serious or changed then come back after a bit full of apologies and regrets. He left again a few months ago.
So, 28 years after my sister died in her sleep, I now understand that the pain and heartache that comes from losing a child stays with you always. I understand my mother's grief over losing Jessica to SIDS. My grief may not be as visible, but my heart aches for those 4 little lives that never had a chance to be. The ones that never had names, that I never held in my arms.
I don't want another pregnancy. I don't have a need to give my daughter a sibling - her father and step-mother have given her plenty. I want to make sure it is not possible, but so far no doctor will perform the procedure. They think I will change my mind. I think I've had enough heartache for one lifetime. But hey, that is what you get when you aren't the one in control of your healthcare thanks to people who think that the government needs to regulate your uterus. But that's a discussion for another time.
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