Baby girl, we love and miss you so much! I'll always wonder who you would have been.
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
Happy 3rd Birthday, Denali
Baby girl, we love and miss you so much! I'll always wonder who you would have been.
Saturday, December 27, 2014
It's been 8 months and one day since I last updated this blog. I found that sometime last spring I lost my voice when it came to Denali. I haven't had anything to say. I think about Denali every day, but I haven't felt like sharing my thoughts. However, as Denali's one year birthday is tomorrow, I felt I really should say something. Bear with me.
This time last year I was terrified. I didn't know what to expect and I was staring down the gun barrel of my first major surgery, my first birth, and my child's death. It was overwhelming. I wasn't expecting how wonderful the next three days were going to be. People have asked me multiple times this year how I survived Denali's death and the answer that I have been giving is that it was a good experience. I know that sounds so strange, but it was. Holding her, loving her and just experiencing her was amazing. The three days that she was alive were the best days of my life.
Yes, I'm sad that Denali did not live longer than her alloted three days. Yes, I want her here with every fiber of my being. I was struck particularly hard a couple of weeks ago when an email went out for my resideny program's Christmas party. It asked for the names and ages of all of the resident's children because Santa was going to bring them a present. I felt like I had been sucker punched because MY CHILD would not be getting to see Santa or get a present. I had a child, she lived, but she's invisible. What makes it a bit more challenging is that, when I started here in 2013, one of the other resident's and I were due at the same time. Seeing her little girl and knowing that she is the same age that Denali would be has been difficult. So yeah, sometimes I get reminded of what could have been. But that is not the direction that my thoughts usually take. Usually, I'm just astonished at my memories of the time we did have with her and so, so grateful that we had it. So many families of babies with anencephaly don't get any time, or very little time with their children.
One thing that I regret this past year is that I have not kept in touch with the people who experienced Denali's life with us. All of our providers, the chaplain, the staff and everyone who was there with us were so wonderful. I think about them often but I just haven't been able to speak. How do you tell someone that they made the life and death of your child a wonderful experience? I don't know how. A simple thank you doesn't seem to suffice. And so I have been silent. If any of you who were there are reading this, please know that even though I don't have words to express my gratitude adequately, that you made a tremendous impact on us. It's cliche, but sometimes, when I'm confronted with a difficult patient I think about the compassion that we received and I find my attitude changing. I doubt anyone really wanted to come into work two days after Christmas and be confronted with a newborn with a horrific deformity and that newborn's subsequent death. Just as I don't want to come in and be faced with a dying patient and their family. But the grace with which the staff of Providence Women's and Children's hospital handled the situation is an inspiration to me. If I can give just a portion of the love and compassion that we were shown to my patients, then I will consider myself a success as a healthcare provider. Thank you.
It really has been a long time since I updated this blog. So much has changed in 8 months. We've come full circle. It's once again December 26th and once again I am looking at having major surgery and the birth of my child. Denali's little sister is scheduled to arrive via C-section in 3 days. Our rainbow, "B", is perfectly healthy and in the 89th percentile for height and weight. I love that her arrival will coincide with the one year anniversary of Denali's life. As John put it, it has symmetry. I don't think that I'm any less terrified today than I was one year ago. The prospect of a healthy child that we will bring home from the hospital is no less frightening than the unknown of what Denali's life would be. I can't even begin to imagine what it will be like. And yes, I'm worried that B will not live. Not too worried, but there is the niggling fear in the back of my mind. We decided that the safest way for her to be born was via a repeat C-section. I could not even risk the very small chance of something going wrong with a VBAC, which carries more risk for her.
I often think about what we will tell B about Denali. She had a big sister that we loved very much but she left before B ever got to meet her. Right now, all of Denali's things, including her urn, are in the nursery. It feels right, but maybe it's kind of weird. It will be a situation we will have to learn to navigate as time passes. And who knows? Maybe B did meet Denali. I hope so. I hope that Denali will be a presence in her life.
Besides preparing to welcome B, a lot of other things have changed. John separated from the USAF in order to be a full-time dad to B. I like to tease him about him having caught a doctor and being a kept man and all, but that's not the case. John and I both have family as our number one priority and we wouldn't be much of a family with him being in Alaska (or who knows where) while I'm doing my residency and having someone else raise our child. And so, my self-proclaimed snowflake relocated to the South. Yes, he lost his retirement, but at the end of our lives, I think it will be much more important that he raised his child. So, John has been spending his days being a house-husband, taking care of me (a daunting task) and the guinea pigs and, our most recent aquisition, a Bearded Dragon. There may be some Skyrim playing in there, too. He does have a job prospect, but we will see how things go with B being here. I imagine she is going to be more than a full-time job! But really, I have been so thankful for John. My life is hard right now. The hours are long, the work is emotionally draining and it often sucks every bit of life out of me. I'm exhausted by the end of the (14 hour) day and having him there is beyond wonderful. He's such a patient man. I honestly don't know what I would do without him. I don't tell him often enough, but I really could not have survived the past year without him. He is the best man that I know.
So, update on me. I'm an internal medicine intern. Life pretty much sucks. But, as hard as it gets sometimes, I still like it. I LOVE being a doctor.
Well, that is all that I have the energy to write. Thanks for reading.
This time last year I was terrified. I didn't know what to expect and I was staring down the gun barrel of my first major surgery, my first birth, and my child's death. It was overwhelming. I wasn't expecting how wonderful the next three days were going to be. People have asked me multiple times this year how I survived Denali's death and the answer that I have been giving is that it was a good experience. I know that sounds so strange, but it was. Holding her, loving her and just experiencing her was amazing. The three days that she was alive were the best days of my life.
Yes, I'm sad that Denali did not live longer than her alloted three days. Yes, I want her here with every fiber of my being. I was struck particularly hard a couple of weeks ago when an email went out for my resideny program's Christmas party. It asked for the names and ages of all of the resident's children because Santa was going to bring them a present. I felt like I had been sucker punched because MY CHILD would not be getting to see Santa or get a present. I had a child, she lived, but she's invisible. What makes it a bit more challenging is that, when I started here in 2013, one of the other resident's and I were due at the same time. Seeing her little girl and knowing that she is the same age that Denali would be has been difficult. So yeah, sometimes I get reminded of what could have been. But that is not the direction that my thoughts usually take. Usually, I'm just astonished at my memories of the time we did have with her and so, so grateful that we had it. So many families of babies with anencephaly don't get any time, or very little time with their children.
One thing that I regret this past year is that I have not kept in touch with the people who experienced Denali's life with us. All of our providers, the chaplain, the staff and everyone who was there with us were so wonderful. I think about them often but I just haven't been able to speak. How do you tell someone that they made the life and death of your child a wonderful experience? I don't know how. A simple thank you doesn't seem to suffice. And so I have been silent. If any of you who were there are reading this, please know that even though I don't have words to express my gratitude adequately, that you made a tremendous impact on us. It's cliche, but sometimes, when I'm confronted with a difficult patient I think about the compassion that we received and I find my attitude changing. I doubt anyone really wanted to come into work two days after Christmas and be confronted with a newborn with a horrific deformity and that newborn's subsequent death. Just as I don't want to come in and be faced with a dying patient and their family. But the grace with which the staff of Providence Women's and Children's hospital handled the situation is an inspiration to me. If I can give just a portion of the love and compassion that we were shown to my patients, then I will consider myself a success as a healthcare provider. Thank you.
It really has been a long time since I updated this blog. So much has changed in 8 months. We've come full circle. It's once again December 26th and once again I am looking at having major surgery and the birth of my child. Denali's little sister is scheduled to arrive via C-section in 3 days. Our rainbow, "B", is perfectly healthy and in the 89th percentile for height and weight. I love that her arrival will coincide with the one year anniversary of Denali's life. As John put it, it has symmetry. I don't think that I'm any less terrified today than I was one year ago. The prospect of a healthy child that we will bring home from the hospital is no less frightening than the unknown of what Denali's life would be. I can't even begin to imagine what it will be like. And yes, I'm worried that B will not live. Not too worried, but there is the niggling fear in the back of my mind. We decided that the safest way for her to be born was via a repeat C-section. I could not even risk the very small chance of something going wrong with a VBAC, which carries more risk for her.
I often think about what we will tell B about Denali. She had a big sister that we loved very much but she left before B ever got to meet her. Right now, all of Denali's things, including her urn, are in the nursery. It feels right, but maybe it's kind of weird. It will be a situation we will have to learn to navigate as time passes. And who knows? Maybe B did meet Denali. I hope so. I hope that Denali will be a presence in her life.
Besides preparing to welcome B, a lot of other things have changed. John separated from the USAF in order to be a full-time dad to B. I like to tease him about him having caught a doctor and being a kept man and all, but that's not the case. John and I both have family as our number one priority and we wouldn't be much of a family with him being in Alaska (or who knows where) while I'm doing my residency and having someone else raise our child. And so, my self-proclaimed snowflake relocated to the South. Yes, he lost his retirement, but at the end of our lives, I think it will be much more important that he raised his child. So, John has been spending his days being a house-husband, taking care of me (a daunting task) and the guinea pigs and, our most recent aquisition, a Bearded Dragon. There may be some Skyrim playing in there, too. He does have a job prospect, but we will see how things go with B being here. I imagine she is going to be more than a full-time job! But really, I have been so thankful for John. My life is hard right now. The hours are long, the work is emotionally draining and it often sucks every bit of life out of me. I'm exhausted by the end of the (14 hour) day and having him there is beyond wonderful. He's such a patient man. I honestly don't know what I would do without him. I don't tell him often enough, but I really could not have survived the past year without him. He is the best man that I know.
So, update on me. I'm an internal medicine intern. Life pretty much sucks. But, as hard as it gets sometimes, I still like it. I LOVE being a doctor.
Well, that is all that I have the energy to write. Thanks for reading.
Friday, April 25, 2014
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Memorial Tattoo
I decided awhile back that I wanted to get a memorial tattoo for Denali. I got my first
tattoo 12 years ago in undergrad, and while it's not something I would choose today, it
really expressed who I was at the time. In other words, I have a large
tramp stamp (hey, it was 2002).
I've wanted to add to it for years but I just didn't know what I wanted. Last year, before I left Alaska for what I thought was the last time, I decided that I wanted to get a tattoo of fireweed. I love fireweed because it has come to represent everything that I have learned and loved about Alaska.
Last year, when we got Denali's diagnosis, one of the first things that I did alone was go out and pick fireweed. I dried it, knowing all along that I wanted to have it with her when she was either buried or cremated. And it was. I also spent those long, lonely nights of the first month after John went back to work cross-stitching a fireweed bib for her. She was cremated in the bib as well.
And so, fireweed has come to represent not only Alaska, but also Denali. Fireweed was an easy choice for her memorial tattoo. But I didn't know who I wanted to do it. I received a recommendation for Shelly V at Body Piercing Unlimited and I checked out her work. She does amazing custom work and I scheduled a consultation with her. I was so nervous because I have seen some ugly tattoos in my day and I didn't want to end up with something that I would regret later. John was also worried and he really didn't want me to get any more tattoos. When Shelly sent me her drawing, I was so excited because it was exactly what I had imagined. And John liked it, too!
In the end, I decided not to have Denali (the mountain) included in the tattoo because it would be really large. Maybe one day I will.
After the first session, I decided that I did want to incorporate the auroras into the piece. So, at the second session, Shelly added the auroras to the fairy's wings. I absolutely love, love, love it! It's still healing, and these pictures were taken on the first day, but you can see how awesome it looks.
On Palm Sunday, our pastor spoke about how fireweed represents life here in Alaska. It burns intensely during the short summer and then dies down, leaving only a memory, but something we can hope to see again. I thought that, when described in that way, fireweed becomes a fitting tribute to Denali. She also lived during a splendid Alaskan summer and then died when the winter came. But her life was intense and beautiful and her memory will be with us forever.
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| Her name is Ophelia |
I've wanted to add to it for years but I just didn't know what I wanted. Last year, before I left Alaska for what I thought was the last time, I decided that I wanted to get a tattoo of fireweed. I love fireweed because it has come to represent everything that I have learned and loved about Alaska.
 |
| Fireweed |
 |
| My engagement ring displayed on fireweed |
Last year, when we got Denali's diagnosis, one of the first things that I did alone was go out and pick fireweed. I dried it, knowing all along that I wanted to have it with her when she was either buried or cremated. And it was. I also spent those long, lonely nights of the first month after John went back to work cross-stitching a fireweed bib for her. She was cremated in the bib as well.
And so, fireweed has come to represent not only Alaska, but also Denali. Fireweed was an easy choice for her memorial tattoo. But I didn't know who I wanted to do it. I received a recommendation for Shelly V at Body Piercing Unlimited and I checked out her work. She does amazing custom work and I scheduled a consultation with her. I was so nervous because I have seen some ugly tattoos in my day and I didn't want to end up with something that I would regret later. John was also worried and he really didn't want me to get any more tattoos. When Shelly sent me her drawing, I was so excited because it was exactly what I had imagined. And John liked it, too!
After the first session, I decided that I did want to incorporate the auroras into the piece. So, at the second session, Shelly added the auroras to the fairy's wings. I absolutely love, love, love it! It's still healing, and these pictures were taken on the first day, but you can see how awesome it looks.
On Palm Sunday, our pastor spoke about how fireweed represents life here in Alaska. It burns intensely during the short summer and then dies down, leaving only a memory, but something we can hope to see again. I thought that, when described in that way, fireweed becomes a fitting tribute to Denali. She also lived during a splendid Alaskan summer and then died when the winter came. But her life was intense and beautiful and her memory will be with us forever.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Denali's Donation Story
I also wanted to post some pictures from the flag raising ceremony:
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| The flag |
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| John raising the flag |
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| Fr. Don read this prayer |
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| Fr. Don, Us, and Lori from Donate Life Alaska |
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| The flag flying high. |
Friday, April 11, 2014
If it's one thing that Denali has taught John and I, it's that life is precious and short and the most important thing is family. After much prayer, thought and discussion, we decided that the best move for our life together is for John to get out of the Air Force and move back to Virginia with me so that we can begin building a family. Life is just way too short to spend it apart from one another, especially as we have spent so much time apart already. While some may view this as a financial mistake as John is only six years away from retirement, we feel that there are more important things in life than money. Besides, I'm going to be a rich doctor. One day. Maybe. However, we found out this week that John's request for early separation from the Air Force was denied for the second consecutive year. The Air Force is forcing people who don't want to get out to get out anyway, but they won't let John go. It doesn't make sense, but no one asked me. What this means for us is that I leave for Virginia next month and John stays here in Alaska for an indeterminate amount of time. I'm devastated. After everything we've been through, I really have no idea how I'm going to survive without him. I don't know how I'm going to face what could potentially be the hardest year of my life (career-wise) without John by my side. It's going to be incredibly difficult is all that I can say. The worst part of it is that we desperately want to try for a sibling for Denali and that will be impossible if we're 5,000 miles apart. It's just not going to happen. I've cried and cried this week and felt about as hopeless as I ever have throughout this entire ordeal. But, life always goes on and I will pack my bags and head for Virginia next month as planned.
Other than sobbing my eyes out, I've been fairly busy. I've tapped into my creative side that has been squashed during all my years of school (as evidenced by my burgeoning graphic design skills here on the blog. Snort.) John has been so awesome and has actually encouraged me in my endeavors! A lot of what I have been doing has been directed towards memorializing Denali in our home. I'm currently working on a large shadowbox, and I will post pictures of that when I'm done. Here's what I have so far (don't laugh):
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| Flowers that I pressed from Denali's Memorial Service |
Some days I still can't believe that I had a baby. I was listening to a medical podcast the other day and it was talking about some risk to nulliparous women and I had to remind myself that I'm not in that category anymore. It's very bizarre.
Okay, that was a weird post. Blame the meds I'm taking for this god-awful tooth pain!
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