Adelle - Our Angel Baby

Christmas Day has come and gone.  I didn't hide from it.  And, in part, because of a very creative sister-in-law, I had a nice day.  I think it's obvious that I am trying to keep a positive mind through all this - see previous posts - and I think I convinced myself and everyone around me that I am doing just fine.  However, it's like I'm in a swimming pool, trying to get out of the deep end.  In reality I don't know how to swim, so I always go only as far as I can touch the bottom.  So, I'm in the gradually sloping part of the pool where if I take one step back the water goes over my head.  That's how I feel some days... on the outside I look like the perfectly groomed pool but on the inside I'm the rock sinking to the bottom unnoticed.

There are many things that contribute to my feelings of drowning...  For example, it's like the whole world is trying to hurt me: the Infant Food Bank has never advertised on billboards before, Canon has torn my heart into a million pieces with their commercial picturing the perfect baby-parent moment, pregnant woman and babies everywhere.  Of course I realize that I notice more of these things because it's so fresh in my mind...  but it's like showing a bowl of rice to a starving man and never letting him eat it. 

I decided long ago that I would not let this experience be in vain.  I promised myself to see the positive in all of this and that's what I am going to keep doing...  I think I can manage the doggy paddle and wading in the shallow end for a while.  One of the best gift I got for Christmas this year was a quote:

"Don't cry because it's over.  Smile because it happened." - Dr. Seuss

He was a smart man that Dr. Seuss and I will take his advice: I will smile because I knew Adelle, even if it was for only a short time.  And because of her, I will make positive changes in my life...

- Seeing the little plus sign on the pregnancy test in early April and half totally freaked out and half very happy, run downstairs to tell hubby (M) who was sick that morning but gave me a hug and a smile;
-  Giving our parents the news by giving them a pair of little yellow baby socks and a note;
- Hearing the baby's strong heart beat for the very first time;
- Seeing the baby on the monitor during the first ultrasound made everything so real;
- Watching my belly change shapes as the baby moved;
- Feeling the baby do major summer saults after drinking that disgusting orange stuff to test for diabetes at 24 weeks;
- Visiting my best friend in July and staying awake with our new God Child so his mom and dad could sleep;
- Sitting in the Ob's office and getting the dreaded news (that the Dr. omitted to tell me for weeks)... there was some fluid in the baby's tummy;
- Driving to Toronto that same week in October to meet with the Specialist at Mount Sinai Hospital;
- Spending hours getting a detailed ultrasound, then speaking with the kindest Specialist who assured us that the baby's organs were perfect and that it was a cyst and that it could be operated once the baby was born;  - Meeting with M's sister that night and eating my heart out because I felt better by the diagnosis;
- Enjoying the generosity of our friends and family at our baby shower;
- Putting the finishing touches on the nursery... watching M put the crib together while putting away all the cute clothes;
- Getting worried because the baby's movements had changed but hearing the heartbeat at the Ob appointment and feeling relieved;
- Driving to Toronto in November for a follow-up appointment and an MRI, to determine whether to deliver the baby in Sudbury or in Toronto to be closer to Sick Kids;
- Getting into the MRI, then being asked with M to sit in a small waiting room because the Dr. wanted to speak with us...  The beautiful doctor with the blond hair sitting across from us and hearing her say the words "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this but..."
- Feeling numb on the way back to Sudbury;
- Being scared during labour, all the while knowing that when it would all be over there still wouldn't be a baby to take home;
- Holding our precious Adelle in my arms...
- Making plans for a funeral;  seeing the tiny casket on November 13th surrounded with beautiful pink and white flowers and feeling exasperated while moments that "could have been" slipped away
- Healing... one step at a time.

There is more to the year than that... but explaining all the emotions intertwined with these snapshots is next to impossible.  All these "snapshots" have something in common...  I always have by my side, M, my loving husband, who shared the same joy and now shares the same intense sadness and pain.  Without him...  well, I am just happy that I didn't have to go through this without him.  When destiny (or whatever you call it) brought us together, I was confident he was the man for me.  I never doubted he would be with me through thick and thin and I was right.

It has been a rough year and it isn't over yet, especially with Christmas just two days away. I know that 2010 will also be difficult... and will be different than what we had imagined and hoped for.  But it will prove (I hope) to be a time of healing and new beginnings for us...

Yesterday I stopped bleeding and my breasts have stopped lactating... plus, I fit in some of my old (non-maternity) clothes.  Most women would be ecstatic about this.  Not me.  For me, these were the only signs - the physical evidence - of my very real pregnancy, labour and delivery. 

Last week I wept for the day the bleeding would stop, because it would mean that the only "evidence" would be memories... and memories, I felt, would dull or disappear with time.  Yesterday, however, I didn't cry.  A dear friend visited me and told me the story of her grand-mother.  It seems that this woman even in her advanced age, when asked about how many children she had would say she had 14 and always mentioned that she had lost her first boy at birth.  It gave me great comfort to hear that even after 50 or more years, this woman never forgot. 

Today I feel confident that I won't ever forget Adelle.  The love I feel for her is another kind of proof, not physical, but still very real.  And for Christmas, my husband is getting a ring made for me with the November birthstone in memory of our little Angel.  I would rather be holding her in my arms, but this stone, ironically the colour of the sun, will be a nice "physical" way to commemorate her.

What the heart has once known, it shall never forget. ~Author unknown

When you loose someone you love, it is said, your heart feels pain that is greater than consistently pouring lemon juice over a paper cut. I can vouch for that! My heart still hurts everytime I think of little Adelle. But she came to me for a reason, I am sure. I think the most important lesson she has tought me, so far, is that I have a lot of people who love me... and more importantly... that I am never alone.


I am grateful that dad-in-law is retired and doesn't mind hanging out with me on the days when I feel I can't stay home alone. I am happy my mom doesn't mind playing a million games of Scrabble (and loosing most of the time), so that I have someone to talk to. I get a sense of peacefulness when I (still this week) receive cards with kind words from friends and acquaintances I thought had long ago forgotten about me. I am happy for packages that come in the mail at just the right time, for phone calls "just because", for a look that says "I don't know what you're going through but I wish I could take your pain away" and for hugs.

It's not a big mistery why God "invented" friends and family. We need each other... especially on those days when we're not even sure if we can get out of bed. But God also gave us pets... these little (or big) creatures that make us angry sometimes when they scratch the furniture or chew up a favourite pair of shoes. But ALL of the time they know when we're feeling sad and have this uncanny way of curling up with us and just making us feel safe. I am grateful for Bailey. He can't tell me in words that he knows that I am sad and need someone to care for and cuddle, I just know he knows. He hasn't left my side for 6 weeks and for this I am grateful too.

Last night, my husband and I were watching "Planet Earth". In this particular episode, they depicted the story of the strong-willed Emperor penguins who endure exhausting travel, starvation, and danger from predators and where the parents take turns guarding the egg and baby chick for a period of several months. At one point in the episode, after keeping the eggs safe and warm in the harshest of the Earth's winters, some of the chicks get lost and freeze. I could not help it... I got angry at the (stupid) parent penguins. Why didn't they keep an eye on their babies? Couldn't they see the storm coming and make sure that their little one was with them... safe (as in not lost in the blizzard)?

This morning with a little more perspective, I realize I was a little (a lot) jugemental of the mom and dad penguins. I am sure that penguins don't receive signals from the Weather Network providing them with predictions of winter blizzards. Also, I realize that the creators of the documentary don't show the parents during or after the blizzard, where undoubtebly, they were in a panic looking for their precious babies and were heart-broken after the storm.

You see, penguins and people are a lot alike. We do all we can to protect our babies but we don't have the luxury of knowing the future. I guess this is the first step to healing... accept that you did everything you could possibly do but that sometimes nature and the universe having bigger and better plans for the smallest and most precious babies.