I had a dream about her

*sensitive in nature*

I had a dream about Peach last night. I've often had disturbing dreams where I find her lifeless body, buried under junk usually, and I manage to get her to breathe again, then I have the issue of people not believing me that she's really alive. You can see the symbolism screaming through that one.

Last night's was different. It was beautiful, in a strange way.



I was walking through an art supply store, trying to find things I could use for props for a movie I was going to make with my brother. I only had an $800 bill with which to pay for the items. It was torn and crumpled and I was embarrassed by it. I'm not sure whether I was embarrassed to have such an obnoxiously large sum of money, or embarrassed that it was so torn and not well taken care of.

I found a section over at the back wall, it was like a bench that ran the length of the wall. And it was filled with painted and mounted posters. I was fishing through for something that would look good on an old lady's wall, for the movie. Then I noticed the left hand corner was filled with miscellaneous fabrics. I looked through these warm, soft fabrics and uncovered my own little baby Heather, sleeping among the material. Her eyes were closed, she was warm, content and breathing. She was wearing her pink, stripy babygro/onesie. I used to call her Sparkle Queen when she wore that one. I could almost see a smile on her face as she slept.



I held her close. She looked exactly as she did in real life. I soaked up every detail. I was suddenly aware that "this is probably one of those dreams again". I wished it wasn't. And I decided to ignore the fact that it was a dream, and savor it all.

I wondered why she was still a baby when it had been so many years. I concluded it was probably because her eyes have been closed this whole time, that if I could get them to open again, she'd probably start growing again. I considered how strange it would be, for her to be the baby sister.

I noticed one of the art store employees, (or was it the manager?) looked at me holding Heather, from the other side of the store, smiled wisely, and walked out of site. I felt grateful to her, that she had given my baby this warm place to sleep while she waited for me to return to her. This lady seemed like an angel, she had a gentleness about her, but I had a sense that she had some authority that I would never comprehend.

Suddenly I got a sick feeling in my stomach. I started to regret the fact that I hadn't been there for my baby this whole time. She had been here on this bench, and I had been living my life. My heart raced and my stomach turned as I contemplated the possibility that she might have cried. What if she cried, and I wasn't there for her? Did she know I wasn't there, if her eyes were closed? Could she hear what was going on? How would she forgive me. What kind of mother was I, leaving my baby to cry and not being there to comfort her? I felt horrible.

I decided to whisper to her and kiss her warm cheek. I held her tiny body up to my face, inhaled her aroma and whispered in her ear, "Mummy's here now. Don't worry, Mummy's here".

And as I did, she started to stir. I saw her mouth move in almost a yawn, and I worried it was a grimace. It was a strange expression, her lips agape, revealing her toothless gums. I had a moment of panic that she wasn't ok, but also a moment of awe, to watch this motion animating my lost love. And then her eyes opened, for an inverted blink. Then they promptly closed again. I couldn't take my eyes off her. There was only her face, filling my whole field of vision. Her eyes slowly fluttered open again, and her mouth turned upwards into that beautiful smile that I am grateful is etched in my subconscious. It was perfectly Peach. I couldn't close my eyes right now, while awake and remember her smile so clearly. It was her, right before me. Looking right into my soul, and with her grin she was bringing life to parts of me that I thought were forever dead.

This was it. The beginning of a new adventure. I didn't know how she would grow, how it would all work out, what her sisters of brother would say. I couldn't really think of much, but stare at her, feel a connection. And overall, the overwhelming sensation was hope.

And then my dream ended. I am uncertain whether it changed to a new dream or if the emotion woke me. Or perhaps it was Turtle kicking my head in the night or Zoe climbing over my feet. Or it could have been Rene's snoring or Lana sleep walking and confused. My tattered $800 bill. My wonderful family, my large sum I've been generously blessed with. I need to focus my energies on being a better steward of what I've been given. On giving more of myself to my kids. And I am reminded of the hope I have for the future, being reminded that while I am not there for my first daughter right now, she is content and being watched over by the angels, and I will gaze into her eyes again one day. And knowing that re energizes me and motivates me to live in the moment now, to soak up every encounter with my children, to give this life my all while God has me here.

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instinct schminstinct

I've always been a huge advocate of mothers following their own instincts.

I had a bad day for that yesterday. Well, starting Monday really. About midday Turtle started to get really upset. I figured he was grizzly and needing a nap. He often naps around that time. so I laid down beside him and nursed him and patted his tummy. He gradually became increasingly upset. An hour into it his back was arched and he was high pitched screaming. This was not a happy boy.

I had changed his diaper and he was rashy, so I thought maybe this was why he was upset. I patiently patted him and help him and told him it's ok. Eventually he fell asleep....for about 20 mins then started back up again. For the next 24 hours he pretty much cried for 5 mins, then tried to sleep for 5 mins. He wouldn't eat but was nursing.

Because he was so upset, I was carrying him or laying beside him the whole time. He was up almost all night crying and saying "ow ow ow". He was signing sore, too. I assumed he was getting this sinus/ear infection we had. I gave him tylenol but it didn't seem to help.

Looking back now, I'm kicking myself that I didn't check him all over. Why wouldn't I do that? What kind of mother am I?

He had a moment of calm at about 11am yesterday and I sat him in his high chair and he ate some breakfast. When he was done I placed him on the floor. The first time he had been put down since the day before! And he started crying and limping towards me. Oh. Darn. Why didn't I think to check his legs?! Poor guys has been suffering pain in his leg this whole time! So I laid him down and tried moving his legs around. He wasn't tolerating bending his left leg and he'd cry "ow ow ow" when I tried to move it. I stood him on the floor again and he reached for the wall to help himself limp along, then collapsed on the floor.

So I called Rene and he came home. My awesome neighbor looked after the girls (seriously, I hardly trust my kids with anyone, but she is fab) and we took the wee laddy to ER. I was certain it was broken because it reminded me so much of when Lana broke hers.



And I beat myself up for not even noticing how it happened, and not realizing he needed help.

A few hours, blood tests and xrays later we were told he didn't have a fracture nor an infection and he probably just strained a muscle. We went home feeling so confused and by evening he was waddling about all over the place. He almost walks perfectly on it by today.

So I was wrong twice. So much for mothers intuition. *sigh*

I don't really know what the moral of the story is, though I'm sure there must be one somewhere...I guess it's spend less time online and more with your kids so you notice if they get hurt. (D'oh.)

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In other news, I was interested to read about the latest SIDS research released today. Sounds like we might be getting somewhere. It's not the first to suggest a link between SIDS babies and low seratonin levels, which effects respiratory and heart regulation. Helps explain why soft bedding is a no no and why you should always sleep baby on their backs. I pray we can figure this whole thing out and then start work on prevention.

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I will celebrate

Last weekend we were dong our usual, running around in the car getting errands seen to. We were also visiting yard sales and some stores, looking for something that would look nice on our daughter's grave. The atmosphere was a bit tense, because we didn't have a lot of time left if we wanted to mail it in time to arrive in Scotland for today.

You see, today, 8 years ago, I became a mother.

So last weekend we were looking at all the little angel statues and bear photo frames and cute little baby figurines. We were also hunting out some bargains and generally getting on the with mundane. I scored a bunch of perfectly conditioned gymboree sweaters for Turtle, for a quarter each!

It felt like a normal day, but tense. I noticed that my fuse was very short and I couldn't understand it. I was getting cross with the kids and Rene for silly little things, but there was no reasonable explanation. As far as I was aware, I felt fine. I wasn't hormonal, I got up on the correct side of the bed, I had had my wheetabix. We continued stopping at yard sales and looking through for treasures.

And then I heard myself just melt down. Rene and I had a disagreement about something, I can't remember what. I went silent for a while. My head was just empty. No thoughts at all. It was strange. Silent. Then I heard myself burst into tears. I sobbed and wept and I'm sure it was quite relieving, if I'd have felt it. But I was hovering over myself watching it play out.

I expected to come out with some argument to whatever it was we were fighting about. But I didn't. I heard myself say, "I don't want to buy a bear or an angel or a statue or figurine or a baby for my daughter's 8th birthday. I don't want to buy it in advance to mail it to Scotland. I don't want to make sure it's weather proof. I want to buy a craft kit or an mp3 player or some trendy pajamas and jewelry, and I want to take it home and hide it in the closet until the next morning. I want to stay up late and wrap it at watch her face light up when she opens it. I want her to hug me and say, "thanks mum". I want her to play with it and enjoy it, not for it to sit on a cold stone being rained on. This just sucks."

And I crumbled. And he stopped the car and he held me. I hadn't been aware that I was even feeling this way. I guess it was all tucked up inside. We just cried. And the kids asked questions, and talked about her. And then Rene had a good idea. Why don't we go shop for clothes for an 8 year old girl and then donate them to the homeless shelter.

So we did that. It felt so good to look for clothes for her. I chose styles she'd like, based on her being a Docherty. My kids don't like wearing denim, or anything scratchy. I bet she'd be the same. I chose colors she used to look great wearing, because of her complexion. White, deep purple and green. I chose comfortable, yet trendy. It was so satisfying. Kaya used her money to buy a pretty pink t-shirt to donate on her behalf too.


We donated them today. We also went out to a re-diaper sale/fun day with a bouncy castle and face painting and way.too.much cotton candy. There were balloons and free treats, kids music and lots of our friends. And I pretended the whole thing was her birthday party. That's ok to do, right? It might seem a little crazy, but us bereaved mothers are a little crazy, and we're perfectly allowed to be. So we spent 5 hours at her birthday party today. The kids made bead people and danced and jumped until we all about crashed. And she smiled down. I'm sure she did.

Or God at least did and he knows where she's at in the whole space time continuum, Heaven/paradise, new body, spirit, temporary place or wherever. I'm not sure exactly how it works, but thankfully he does and he's in control and I do know I'll see her again. I'm certain of it.


Meanwhile I will celebrate her birthday. And I will cry on it. And I'll do some less than sane things, like pretend a re-diaper sale is really her birthday party with tons of guests. And I'll remember that day when I pushed her into this world late at night, and I sat and stared at her and could not go to sleep. Because she was perfect and beautiful and I could hardly believe she was really mine. I guess she never really was. None of them really are. I'll remember staring at her tiny tiny face and holding her little hand in mine and memorizing every little detail. The way she'd pucker up her lips, her little lamb like cry, her perfect eyebrows, how she could look across the large hospital room from day one, and focus on objects far away. She was so smart

I'm so proud of her. Happy birthday Peach.

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There's one missing

I love this picture Rene took of the kids and I after Lana's birthday meal at Red Robins (they do boca burgers!)



The problem is, it was supposed to be a picture of me with all my kids. But it's not. And I'll never have one of those. And I still feel a little sorry for myself at times.

See, my brain and my spirit realize that Peach isn't here anymore. They realize she's in Heaven and I'll see her again one day. My body has no clue. It just knows I've given birth 5 times and it expects to be caring for 5 children.

Once you have a child and your maternal instincts switch on for that child, there's no off button. I know she doesn't need me anymore, but my body doesn't know that.

I've mentioned before that I'm neurotic about many things. One such thing is I have this fear of leaving a child behind. I'm constantly pulling the car over to do an extra headcount, or yelling out to Kaya, "can you check that Turtle is still there? And Zoe?" even when I physically buckled them all in there minutes previous. But I think it's because my internal numbers are all out of whack with reality. I'm counting 4 kids and trying to reassure myself that that means I have all the kids, but inside there's this alarm going off saying there must be one missing.

Because there is one missing. I miss her every day. I need her every day. I love her every day. I have been blessed with so much more than I ever could have imagined. And I am thankful. And I still just wish she was here to be a part of it all. Although I'm at peace with it all and everything, sometimes it just sucks. Sometimes it just hurts. Sometimes Heaven seems too long to wait.

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It's silly of me, I know

..silly because it's just a commercialized holiday

silly because it's not really a day any different from yesterday, or tomorrow

silly because my arms are so full of kids and my cup overflows

silly because I have so much to be thankful for...


But I really miss her extra today.




Heather's story

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The good and the bad of baby days

I love and hate the young baby stage.

I love it so much for the cuddles, the coos, the smiles, the innocence, the precious expressions, the snuggling up and nursing, getting to know this huge soul and personality all squeezed into a teensie weensie body, feeling so important and needed, gazing in awe at this tiny creation who's gazing back in awe at their mum, learning so much about God and love and what's important in life. I love discovering this little person who I've loved for 9 months before I even knew who they were.

I love diaper changes, bath times, baby skin folds, baby fragrances, being puked on, being peed on, rubbing baby's skin, being up with baby in the night, baby burps - so satisfying, carrying baby around with pride, feeling their little hands curl around my finger and hold on so tight like they're saying "don't let me go mummy", talking to them, singing to them, watching them sleep, watching them make funny faces or kick their legs and shake their arms and open their eyes all big and wide.

I love just about every single thing about these precious hours and days and weeks and months...

Except one thing. The fear.

Glenn's passed the milestone. Heather died at 10 weeks and 3 days old. Glenn is 11 weeks now. He's made it. But I know he's still very much in the peek risk time for SIDS. I pray every day, countless times, that God will let me raise him, that He won't take him home early.

I put him to bed at night and my stomache starts to churn as my fears come to the surface again. I involuntarily play scenarios in my head and try to erase them or focus on something different. But I can't hide from the fear. It's here, it's valid and it's so hard to get through. It takes over.

Don't get me wrong, I trust God and believe that whatever happens, He'll see me through. I know He will, as He did before. But I'm selfish and don't want to just get through. I want my boy, and I want to keep him for a while. The thought of anything alternative is too much to bare.

He's my everything. He's perfect, he's special, he loves me, he's so peaceful and content and smiley, the girls adore him so much. He's such a part of our family now, I can't remember what it was like before him.

I felt the same fear with Kaya, Lana and Zoe and I got through those months. With Kaya it was the worse. So strong, and we were a mess. But we got through, and now she's 6 and thriving. My friend Dawn told me back then, "yes sometimes bad things happen to good people, but don't forget, often GOOD things happen to good people". It was like I had forgotten that tragedy doesn't always just strike and that sometimes life goes on as normal and babies grow into kids who grow into adults. And watching Kaya go from milestone to milestone has been so healing for me.

In a way I just look forward to Glenn reaching some more milestones and getting to the point where I don't wake up 20+ times a night with my heart racing while I check if he's breathing. I look forward to him being a robust 2 year old, full of energy and spirit and life, so I don't have to worry about how I could possibly go on if I ever have to go through such loss again.

But by then he'd be older, and I wouldn't have these beautiful baby days to experience anymore. And I know I'll miss it. Because I love babies so much. I love babyhood. I love these early baby days and weeks and months. I just hate the fear.

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