We love you and miss you so much!
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.
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