changing the perspective

So after last week's therapy session (naturally, I'm getting help with all of this grief stuff), I made a plan to change the environment around me, my home where I live and work, so as to make it softer on my eyes. I added some new candles to the living room and the kitchen table. The idea of bringing more light into my life, even as the days get shorter and darker, feels so comforting. We took a family trip to IKEA this weekend and bought a new bookcase for Charlie and Sofie's room (I swear we now have every color, shape and size of the Expedit series of shelving). I also bought a new duvet cover for our bed and put up some curtains in our bedroom. For all of my pregnancies I sat in that bed staring at the same red plaid duvet cover. Since I've been home from the hospital I've spent many nights curled up under the covers, crying and aching with physical and emotional pain. The new cover is white with a grey, floral design. It is lighter and prettier, although probably not a purchase I would have made if I was busy breastfeeding, pumping , and burping all over the covers of our bed. I wish Mila and I were snuggling up together on that dingy, old duvet cover, but I'm looking for ways to make what is new and different feel ok.

Today I feel grateful for my life. My therapist also told me that it's okay to let grief and joy sit side by side together. I look around my house and am grateful that I am healthy and able to clean, organize, and decorate my home. Today I delighted in playing follow the leader with Charlie as we hopped on and off of cushions and then ran up the stairs with ease, rather than being achy and unable to walk like when I first came home from the hospital.

I think about Charlie and Sofie's experience this summer, and now, as we talk about their baby sister and where she fits in our family. This week we are supposed to bring pictures of family members to school to make a family tree. I absolutely want Charlie and Sofie to share about their sister with others, but it's a strange situation to be in. After years of planning and teaching these same kinds of activities, I know that no preschool teacher would expect a few photos to cause stress and anxiety. Do I ignore the short but beautiful life Mila lived in order to save face in front of other people in the class? Do I bring in a picture of my stillborn daughter because she is thought of and spoken about so much that she might as well be here? (and risk being one of those people.) We've decided for now to keep the pictures of Mila out of the classroom, and glue them onto the family tree as soon as we get home. I told the kids that I didn't want their friends or the other parents to be sad if they saw a picture of their sister who died. These are the situations that just suck. Every day I find a little more grace . . . and then a reminder of what has happened. I'm told the day will come when the grief isn't so sharp and powerful. I am changing my perspective and trying to look down the road to that day.

My privilege

After I attended a workshop for women who had experienced a traumatic birth experience, one of the facilitators shared an e-book with me called Picking Up the Pieces by Alana Burton Sheeren. It's an amazing collection of stories and exercises on grief. On her blog, Alana shares about what she does and why. Her writing has been a recent inspiration as I begin to walk forward.

Laura

My privilege

the dryness

While I was in the hospital I had a lot of strange dreams, visions, and hallucinations. Some were silly and psychedelic, obviously caused by the sedatives and paralytic drugs I was on. Others were loosely based on the sounds and events going on around me while I was sedated or coming out of sedation. There were also dreams or thoughts that told of past or future events, as if I was more open to the energy and experiences of those in the room, even though I had no other way of knowing these things. I was confused and disoriented when I woke from sedation and hadn't remembered right away that Mila was no longer with us. I thought that the twins we lost in 2006 were also here, that we had 3 newborn babies waiting at home for their mama. I realized quickly that this wasn't my reality, even though it seemed very real for a short time.

Sleeping was difficult while I stayed in the hospital. I was uncomfortable, lonely, and heartbroken. I missed my husband and my children. The beds in the hospital were so awful that I had to have several physical therapy sessions to get my body aligned properly again once I got home. Nighttime felt creepy with so many lights, sounds, and interruptions from nurses to check vitals or administer meds. The first few nights out of ICU I had some very vivid, disturbing dreams. I don't remember what exactly took place, but there was a common theme. The best way I can describe it is dry.

In one of the dreams we lived in a rural area. We were in an old farmhouse surrounded by trees, and various animals such as dogs, goats, and chickens. It was fall, but the air was dry and stale. The ground was hard and dusty. Rather than soft, tender leaves that have just left their branches, it was covered with dry, crunchy leaves that broke into pieces when you walked on them. Everything was brown and dead, waiting for the first snowfall to make everything look fresh and clean again.

In another dream we were inside a different home, it was an autumn night and outside the air was dry. Lights from our home illuminated the trees with gold and brown leaves, but beyond our yard it was dark and dangerous. We couldn't let our children outside for fear that the wild animals would attack them.

The colors and feelings of both these dreams were the same; ugly yellows and browns, dark, dry, stale, hard, sharp. They are the same as my feelings of grief: dark, dry, hard.

It's October and this has been an unusually dry fall so far in Minnesota. I am almost haunted by the resemblance to my hospital dreams when I'm doing the dishes after dinner and gaze out of the kitchen window. I used to love fall. It was my favorite season. Now, fall is painful. My grief is at its heaviest right now and I wonder if I will always associate these dry, autumn days with the deep loss and sadness I've experienced. I feel the same way in early spring, when the air is cold and the trees have not yet sprung to life. We miscarried at 18 weeks in March of 2006 and those cold dreary days always remind me of the loss we experienced then.

I usually surround myself with colors and textures that comfort, soothe, and inspire me. Most of the time, these have been the rich, warm colors of fall. Now, I want a cooler palate. I crave gray, white, and aquamarine colors. I want to feel things that are refreshing and restorative. I find peace today in things that are soft, smooth, and light. I indulge in clean water washing over me or a crisp, clean sheet. The meditation book I've been reading on grief says that I can ask God to supply and surround me with the things I need to feel better. Today I pray that God guide me towards all the things that bring me peace, comfort, and relief.

Mila Louise

I've been meaning to update the blog. I've turned it into my blog, my place to write and share all that is in my head and in my heart at any given moment. I'll continue to document our lives with our funny, smart, adorable, four year old twins, but for now. I need this space to be for me.

It's time to start, so here's what happened.

On Friday, July 1, 2011, our beautiful baby girl arrived silently. She was stillborn. After 18 hours of fairly normal labor, Mila entered and then left our world. She was not breathing and they could  not resuscitate her. She and I had been attacked by a deadly bacteria. Our daughter's lungs were so full of infection when I delivered her that there was no room for a first breath. After 45 minutes they told us there was nothing they could do. In the meantime, I was bleeding, and they could not stop it. I had an emergency hysterectomy and was in a drug induced coma for 12 days. I almost died. I asked my dad a few weeks ago if I also had respiratory failure in addition to renal failure. He said I had all kinds of failure. My body was shutting down. I awoke on July 12, 2011 and left North Memorial Hospital on July 19, 2011. Since then I have been trying to find comfort, meaning, purpose, and peace while we grieve the loss of our baby and try to rejoice that I am alive today.

I have so many thoughts, so many emotions. They change not only daily, but every hour and every minute. I think this is why I need to start writing. My brain hurts from so much thinking, and my eyes burn from crying. Mila would be three months old today. What I hate today is that as much as I dreamed and imagined how great our family would be when she arrived, I can't picture her being here now. I don't know what she would look like, what she would be doing, or how Charlie and Sofie would be relating to her. All the things we were so excited to experience have faded. Today I am not the mother of twins and a newborn baby. I am a mother whose baby has died.

I held Mila for just a few moments, kissed her and said goodbye while doctors and nurses scurried gracefully around me. I don't remember what she looked like then, I only have the pictures Chris took with his phone and the professional photos taken by the nonprofit organization, Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep. I have studied these pictures, trying to burn into my brain the image of my baby so that I never forget how she looked. She was a perfect mix of Charlie and Sofie, of Chris and I. Unlike my little, preemie twins, Mila weight 8 pounds, 8 ounces. She was round and cute, with her daddy's cheeks and my nose. I didn't get to look at her body, touch her skin, or hold her until she felt heavy in my arms. Chris held her the most, especially while I was in surgery. He cried all over her and then handed her over to her big sister, brother, and her devastated grandparents and aunt. Other people held her too, my aunts, my brother and sister in law, my grandmother. I'm glad she was held by them when I couldn't be there. I will always cherish the life I held while she grew inside me. I've always loved being pregnant, and I hope I never forget how as my belly grew, so did my love for Mila.

This blog is for me. It's a place I want to record and organize my thoughts, my memories, and the things that make me feel normal. I will post pictures of Mila. I never understood how parents could share photos of their dead babies so openly, but now I do. Mila was perfect. To me, she looks like she's sleeping. I look at her face and say her name many times each day. It's the only way I can keep her close, and hold her, even though she left so soon.

Laura

Merry and Bright Indeed!

Happy Holidays from the Dumonts! It's been a wonderful season. In fact, we've been celebrating all December long. To better illustrate what we've been up to, I've included photos of some special events.
Be sure not to miss our special surprise at the end of the post!
Happy New Year! May 2011 be filled with joy, peace, and good things for all!

Laura

This is our holiday card. I've accepted that perfect photos of three year olds rarely exist. These aren't bad, however.

Our visit with Santa at Macy's downtown went very well. It was a fun morning as a family, followed by lunch out, a special treat!

Sofie dressed in her holiday best as she gets ready to sing (or just observe) in the holiday pageant at church.

Celebrating Christmas at Gramma Kathy's and Grampa Jeff's.
"Can we open presents NOW?"

Charlie got what he's always wanted, an umbrella!

Our tree Christmas morning, just after Santa's arrival.



And our special gift this year . . .

Baby number three, due July 7, 2011.
Charlie has already named the baby, "Super Baby Rocket Ship"
Sounds good to me, at least until its arrival.

Love and glad tidings to all!

The Dumonts

Fall Fun

Here are some photos of what we've been up to. I knew three year old twins would be crazy and challenging at times, but man oh man! Charlie and Sofie keep us on our toes with new personalities, language, interests, and abilities. Constantly, we are asking each other, "Where did they learn how to do that? When did they learn that word?" Life in our little world is so fun, exhausting, and way to busy to take time to blog. Hopefully the next update won't take so long!

Love to all,
Laura

Charlie and Sofie's first day of school. This year we are doing both a parent-child class and a preschool class where they are all alone without me. I actually get a two hour break. It's awesome!

Chris and I took a long overdue trip to Vail this September for our friend Jeff's wedding. It was a relaxing, fun, and restorative!

Vail Mountains

Don't we look relaxed?!

The fall colors in our yard were stunning this year!

Picking out our pumpkins for Halloween!

Trick or Treat!
Charlie was a dragon and Sofie was a fairy.
They had a blast trick or treating, but even more fun was passing out treats when people came to the door. "Here you go!" they would giggle.

Happy Birthday, Baptism, and more!

It's been way too long since the last update, but what can I say? Living and enjoying life is way more important these days! May is always a busy month and we had a jam-packed month with trips to the zoo, birthdays, picnics, and lots of trips to the park with school friends. Some of you know and some of you don't that I have been struggling with ulcerative colitis for the last year and a half. While most days I feel okay, some days are tough. I'm trying to find the best ways to stay healthy and simply be grateful for the days that I am well and have the energy to enjoy my wonderful life! Please enjoy some photos of the last month or so and a fun video of the sweetest three year olds we know!

Laura

We celebrated my 33rd birthday at Teddy Bear Park in Stillwater. It was a beautiful day!

Teddy Bear Park in 2007 when Charlie and Sofie were 3 months old.

Teddy Bear Park at 3 years old!

For their birthdays, Charlie and Sofie got real big beds,
well, mattresses at least.

Blowing out the candles on their Yo Gabba Gabba cake.

Getting ready to sing Happy Birthday to our babies!

Charlie and Sofie's breakfast birthday celebration.

We had Charlie and Sofie baptized on June 6, 2010 at my new church,
Robbinsdale United Church of Christ. In the fall they will start Sunday school!

Sofie having fun at the baptism party.

Handmade, quilted name banners. So beautiful and made with such thought and talent!

Now, let's dance!