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THE BEAN

Valerie Nelson

May 2013

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ANNIVERSARY PART 2

Sep 15, 2011 03:37pm (EST)

Despite my best efforts to stop time, today did, indeed, come.

"Happy birthday" to my sweet Bean, Caitlyn Greenleigh.

It has been *six* *long* *years* since she entered this world. Still, the memories of that morning in the hospital are so vivid. They aren't with me every day anymore, but today they certainly are.

The day had a bit of a rough start with two un-cooperative pre-schoolers. After a re-start of sorts, on both their part and mine, we're having a much better time. I am embarrassed to admit that we have indulged in some usually-off-limits junk food and will likely have a rather un-productive day. That is, in part, because of the self-pity I am attempting to wave off and part because, were Caitlyn with us, we would surely have plenty of fun planned.

But, this "fun" is different. Very different. I imagine that I would be painting my little girl's tiny finger- and toenails some adorable shade of girly pink. I would have picked out a lovely dress for her to wear to school today, with sweet barrettes in her hair. When she arrived home at the end of the day, perhaps we would greet her with balloons. And, dinner would bring a wonderful celebration of her, my *daughter.*

Instead, I'm surrounded by boys. Lovely, sweet boys, mind you, but boys nonetheless. (smile)

We have Sister's cake waiting to be decorated, and we will make a card for her. And the two oldest ones will continue to ask when Sister will be here so we can have the party.

As the boys get older, I struggle to answer their questions about their sister. They are growing up knowing about Caitlyn and hearing her name in our family's everyday conversation. They see her pictures and momentos. They visit her gravesite with us when we return to the US. But, as 3- and 4-year-olds, they, of course, cannot yet grasp the idea of death.

My oldest now answers the middle with "Sister cannot leave that hospital." It hurts my heart that this is the only way they will know their big sister.

As I watched all three boys play together this morning, the two oldest tenderly bringing the baby toys and not complaining when he "stole" others, I wept. They have brought such happiness to my life and filled a dark, empty place in my heart. I am incredibly thankful for each one of them, as they each entered our life with their own story.

Yet, I still desperately longed for my baby girl.

And, that brought a great deal of guilt to my heart.

How could I claim to be so thankful for these three amazing boys when I know that they would not be with us if Caitlyn were?? Yes, we would have surely had more children as Caitlyn grew. But, these boys are exactly who they are because of the precise ways and the precise times they came to be.

I feel as if, by missing Caitlyn, I am, in some way, discrediting the existence of my sons. That, most certainly, is not my intention. I simply want them all.

Posted by Valerie Nelson | Comments: (3) | Permalink

ANNIVERSARY PART 1

Sep 02, 2011 03:45am (EST)

Tomorrow marks the 6 year "anniversary" when I entered the hospital hoping to delay Caitlyn's birth much longer than I actually did.

Her quickly approaching birthday has been on my mind for a couple of weeks now, but I just realized that tomorrow is, indeed, the day that started it all.

I still vividly remember arriving at the hospital, surrounded by so many people (I wholly support the idea of a teaching hospital, but I now feel very differently about the presence of so many folks in the room during such an emotionally traumatic time...I felt like a fish in a tiny fish bowl with kids too young for the responsibility of pet ownership staring, wide-eyed and open-mouthed at me - all of me -as I learned the stark statistics of my only baby's survival), crying at the realization of the prognosis, dazed, hopeless.

Six years. Six long years. I have a feeling I will be saying that many times in the coming months.

Posted by Valerie Nelson | Comments: (3) | Permalink

A HARD DAY'S NIGHT

Aug 30, 2011 02:57am (EST)

Forgive the Beatles reference...I'm not sure why that came to mind.

But, tonight is hard.

I want my daughter in my arms again. I want to have experienced the last 6 years with her in my sight everyday. I want to brush her hair and paint her fingernails.

I.Want.My.Daughter

Most days pass so quickly that it seems I am usually focused on to-do's and other daily life chores. I am continually in search of my new self, attempting to reinvent my once-professional self and improve my Mommy-self. I recognize that I rarely take time to simply enjoy an activity, as something without results often seems pointless. (I have always been a results gal, but I readily admit my tendancies sometimes verge on obsessive these days.)

Tonight, I stopped.

I watched TV. Bad TV. You know, those police dramas that constantly play on re-runs.

And, now?

Now, I'm crying. My heart hurts. My arms ache.

I know, I know...I have three amazing little boys to cuddle in my arms.

But, none of them are my daughter.

The tears don't come very often after all these years. But, I often feel that they are merely waiting just below the surface.

I can talk about Caitlyn so easily. I can share what I've learned. All without tears.

But, in these quiet times, I am reminded that the pain is still there. Different, certainly. But, present nonetheless.

I love you, my Bean. I miss you more than words can say, my love.

Posted by Valerie Nelson | Comments: (3) | Permalink

HERE WE GO AGAIN

Aug 22, 2011 12:40am (EST)

We are settling in to our new house after months of utter chaos. One-third of my hometown - including everything my parents owned - was destroyed as we arrived for a month long visit before our next move abroad. Long-story-short, the details are here.

Luckily, there was no damage at the cemetery where Caitlyn rests. I really don't know what I would have done had that been destroyed, too. I lost control for long enough as it was. Every childhood momento, every family picture...it's all gone, now. But, at least I was able to visit my Bean.

As my entire family was homeless and in transition, life was...unpleasant...though I was incredibly thankful to have that particular nightmare instead of a worse one. The visit was entirely too short and I simply was not ready to leave my parents, childhood friends or city.

Yet, off we went again, with three wee ones in tow this time. More chaos ensued upon arrival in our new home in the Dominican Republic, as the initial weeks are always in flux. This go 'round seemed particularly challenging because Z and T, now 4 and 3, respectively, were certainly aware of the craziness that had been our life for so many weeks prior and proceeded to educate me on the trials of toddlerhood...We have bounced around environments so much in the past year and life has been filled with stress between the moves, my troubled pregnancy with Spencer and my parents' destruction. The boys have had little consistency except with each other, yet they were simply getting tired of having only each other to play with. And, you know what that means in kid-speak...arguing, crying and stealing toys. (smile)

Ten weeks later, we have a second car (for the first time in seven years, as this is certainly not a walker's city...something we are all lamenting dearly as these have been incredibly.long.weeks stuck at home all day), I have found some activities for the boys and myself, and I am beginning to make friends (also for myself and the boys).

There is a tiny speck of a light at the end of the tunnel.

But, boy, was it a long, dark tunnel.

Maybe I'm older and more cranky now. Maybe I'm not fully committed to this assignment. Maybe I am still angry about my lost self - from both Caitlyn's death and leaving my career and friends for Hart's career. Maybe I selfishly let myself get carried away by anxiety about the challenges here. Maybe, Maybe, Maybe.

So, as Caitlyn's birthday approaches once more, I feel my anxiety building a bit more this time. I'm "used to" remembering her time in mostly solitude...Now that Zachary and Tyler are old enough to understand a bit, they enjoy helping bake her birthday cake and make her card. But, I wish I could simply be surrounded by others sometime. The boys and I were at my parents this time last year, and while my parents honor Caitlyn in a different way than I do they thought our tradition was quite lovely even if very difficult.

And, for some reason, the number six this year is a bit more painful than others. Each year is difficult, of course, because it reminds me time is passing - too quickly. Five was hard "simply" because it is a milestone of every child's life. Six seems...so big. I feel that I no longer have any idea what a girl that age would like or what abilities she would have. I can't even imagine what my precious daughter would be doing.

That hurts.

A lot.

Posted by Valerie Nelson | Comments: (3) | Permalink

CONFLICTED

Apr 08, 2011 03:00am (EST)

This will be the sixth WalkAmerica / March for Babies for The Bean Team. Each year, I gasp at how much time has passed since Caitlyn's death. Six years...I should have a kindergartener now.

We walked in the DC area the first year and will be there again this year, but every other year I have organized our own walk wherever we lived abroad. It was *important* that I do something even though I couldn't be with the official events. I spared no detail for our Bean Team events and spent hours preparing food, walk routes, mementos, newsletters, fundraisers. I was proud to have organized everything and felt a sense of accomplishment, in addition to honoring my baby girl.

This year has been chaotic, to say the least. A temporary but lengthy-enough-to-miss-all-of-our-belongings-waiting-for-us-in-storage stint in the US, complicated pregnancy and personal mental battle with the lack of friends and outside-the-home / non-family stimulation has left me feeling...unsettled, discouraged, unmotivated, unsure. And, that's just about my life, in general. (grin)

In an attempt to make the most of our time here, I joined the neighborhood moms' club and assumed the lead for their March for Babies team. I was thrilled to pair The Bean Team with them, share my story and have a non-mommy responsibility. But, what have I done with it? Not as much as I could have. I have procrastinated on communications - still doing what was needed, mind you, but little more and doing so after postponing the item on my to-do list more than once. I have organized a single fundraiser, shameful compared to my previous events. I have foregone my usual creative efforts for a more straightforward approach.

Why the lack of interest? Why am I being so lazy with this when I still want, *need* to remember my daughter? I have no other projects (unless you count raising three wee ones as a project - grin). I feel incredibly guilty but something seems to hold back my excitement.

I think part of it is that it is (finally?) sinking in that this is all there will be...ever. This is as close as I can get to my daughter. I accepted my reality long, long ago (which was incredibly difficult), but it seems that with each year's passing she feels further away. I know that's how it works, but I don't like it! (smile)

I'm not sure why, and I'm not sure how to fix it...But, I am conflicted.

Posted by Valerie Nelson | Comments: (1) | Permalink

FOUR BECOMES FIVE

Mar 13, 2011 03:22am (EST)

I have let yet another long span of time pass without writing. It has been on my mind so often, but I couldn't bring myself to actually sit in my thoughts long enough to do it. My writing isn't as often as some, of course, since I must focus on Caitlyn's memory rather than her growth and achievements...But there are events, comments, thoughts in my day which prompt me to think of her.

To begin with the good news, we welcomed our third son to the family on 27 December! The pregnancy was full of concerns from the very beginning, unfortunately, as I miscarried one twin, began contracting in the early second trimester, was admitted twice for pre-term labor (thankfully, both were very short stays), took 7 pills per day and then p17 injection each week, spent many weeks on restricted activities, discovered a cyst on the baby's kidney and expected the baby to have jaundice. (whew!)

Undoubtedly, it was a very stressful pregnancy...Especially considering that the problems coincided with our international (temporary!) move.

But, my precious Spencer Avery arrived as scheduled and healthy!

As with my other deliveries, we didn't know the sex of the baby. Knowing this was my last pregnancy (even before the real complications began) *everyone* "just knew" the baby was a girl. My (self-protecting) response to every such comment was to caution that it was only wishful thinking. I reiterated (to others and myself) that I only wanted to bring the baby home (preferably at the same time I arrived).

Yet, truthfully, in some ways I did hope for a baby girl. I can honestly say that I never felt the need to replace the loss of Caitlyn ~ For a very long time, I wanted (needed) to fill my empty, aching arms. But with *her,* not with a baby for the sake of filling that void. I dared not verbalize that hope of a daughter, though. I feel incredibly guilty even acknowledging that, secretly, such a thought crossed my mind.

After one's own child dies in her arms, she should be incredibly grateful for *any* child who blesses her life. Right? And, I *am* incredibly grateful. I had an opportunity that very, very few families have and welcomed our oldest son home through adoption; even the details of the process were incredibly rare to happen so smoothly. I was lucky enough to have a relatively normal pregnancy three years and one miscarriage after losing Caitlyn. And, I was certainly lucky to bring this baby home after what truly became a high-risk pregnancy.

But, as I lay in the operating room waiting to hear the cries of my baby, the fleeting thought did cross my mind...Would I be able to pass on to a new daughter the few pink, frilly sweets which I couldn't bear to part with when Caitlyn died? Would I get to paint fingernails and make pig-tails? Would I get to shop for prom and wedding dresses?

When the doctor announced the baby was a boy, I cried. I would have cried had he been a girl. But, I suppose I can't honestly say that at least some of those tears weren't from a sort of sadness. Disappointment? No, that isn't the right word because, again, I truly am more thankful than words can express to have brought this baby to the world healthy.

I think the only way I can really describe the feeling is as another loss of hope and round of "What if...?" questions. That was certainly a very difficult aspect of Caitlyn's death to handle...I had lost all hope for so long. Hope that I could have a healthy pregnancy. Hope that I could hold a baby. Hope that I could raise a family. This time, I lost the hope of raising a daughter. Now, I will always wonder what it would be like to shop for cute, ruffled dresses or ready my sweet girl for a Daddy-Daughter dance or talk about boyfriends or watch her grow up as the protected little sister of two amazing big brothers or plan a wedding.

Obviously, I have mixed feelings!

I do wish that I could experience those events with a daughter. But, now, I have the privilege of being spoiled by three handsome sons, watching them grow into (hopefully!) great friends and kind men. (Plus, I won't have to share the bathroom, right?!)

Two months have passed, and I am, of course, completely in love with this wee one (who, incidentally, looks exactly like his big brother and, in turn, Caitlyn). And, I must note that it certainly did not take two months to fall in love with the sweet thing.

As I assume is the case with many last pregnancies, I was very reluctant to pack away the newborn clothing as he began to grow...S was my last pregnancy. I knew that from the beginning. I should have had ample time to accept the ramifications of that. But I exchanged the items in his dresser with a heavy heart.

And, I still cannot bear to part with those pieces I kept from Caitlyn's gifts. I certainly don't plan to dress S in pink ruffles (grin) and it seems silly to carry baby clothes across the world as we relocate again.

But, I cannot let go. Not yet. I don't know when I will be able to.

IMG_3747

Posted by Valerie Nelson | Comments: (3) | Permalink

MEANINGFUL TIMING

Oct 19, 2010 02:38pm (EST)

Too soon after Caitlyn's fifth birthday, we remembered the anniversary of her death. It was comforting to be able to visit her grave on those special days, as we have not been local since she died. It was difficult, of course, nonetheless.

Hart and I still differ greatly about our grieving, even five years later. He, of course, accompanied me to the cemetery, and while it was meaningful for him, as well, he still feels that it is not a day which he wants to remember. I completely understand why, but for me, there is no option to *not* remember it...It is forever engrained in my memory; there is no escaping it.

I was privileged to participate in some very exciting and important projects related to neonatal health care during our time in London, and many have been finalized in the past few weeks. It was incredibly rewarding for me to be a part of such work with nation-wide, and even international, audiences.

One initiative resulted in the development of national standards for the quality of neonatal services, and was recently published. While these standards were created within the realm of the British health care system, we have a great deal to learn from them here, in the US. As most of our stories probably attest to, there remains a varied level of care and services for premature and special care babies. More information can be found at the following websites

Bliss charity (http://www.bliss.org.uk/news_item.asp?itemid=2117&itemTitle=NICE+launches+new+quality+standard+on+specialist+neonatal+care&section=22&sectionTitle=News+and+media)

National Institute of Health and Clinical Excellence (http://www.nice.org.uk/aboutnice/qualitystandards/specialistneonatalcare/SpecialistNeonatalCareQualityStandard.jsp)

A second project of which I am most honored to have been a part of is the creation of a publication aimed at supporting parents when faced with end-of-life critical care decisions for their babies. This was a bit...tender...of an undertaking, as it required a very honest description of the painful emotions and questions parents experience as their child is expected to die, coupled with the approach which must be taken from the medical teams. Not only was I able to contribute to that publication, but Caitlyn's story has been featured as a part of it. Much of the publication's information is available on Bliss' website (http://www.bliss.org.uk/page.asp?section=916&sectionTitle=Valerie%27s+story).

I recognize, of course, that my life cannot revolve solely around Caitlyn's memory...My two sons and the wee one on the way deserve the opportunities to make their own memories. But it is very important for me to have time to remember my daughter. She was on this Earth for such a short time, and I feel that it is challenging enough for me to hold on to her. Working on projects like these helps me feel closer to her; it validates that she was, indeed, real; it lessens the pain of that horrible nightmare from which a parent cannot wake but must continue living after burying her child.

Posted by Valerie Nelson | Comments: (3) | Permalink

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BEAN

Sep 21, 2010 03:32am (EST)

Caitlyn's *fifth* birthday was the 15th...I simply cannot believe that five years have passed. It doesn't seem possible.

If she were alive, this would be such a milestone year for her. Instead, I have to remind myself that is not my reality.

I often find myself feeling guilty that I do not think of her as much as I feel I should...She is my only daughter, after all; my first baby; my angel. I suppose it is due to the busy days of life with two toddlers...Yet, I still feel guilty.

I have been able to continue some work with the neonatal projects I was involved with in London, and that has come at a very special time for me. Any chance to talk about my precious miracle, especially in a setting aimed at preventing the sort of heartache Hart and I have experienced, always makes me feel a bit closer to Caitlyn. And that has been quite important and comforting to me as we remember her birthday and upcoming death anniversary.

Our family spent Caitlyn's birthday at the library's story time (the boys love going each week) and taking some flowers to her grave. Zachary remembers visiting last year when we were in the US, and both boys know that is where we go to "see" Sister. They kiss her headstone when we leave...so sweet but so heartbreaking. Even though they seem to know we go to the cemetery to talk to Caitlyn, I'm sure they do not understand death at this point. Zachary asks many questions, which I do not yet know how to answer properly. I've found it rather tricky to explain death to a toddler. (smile) But they are growing up knowing about their sister, and they know she is part of the family. That is exactly how I want them to feel. The rest of the details will come in time.

The boys also decorated Caitlyn's birthday cake, sang to her and "wrote" in her card. They were surely too excited at the prospect of cake to sense the gravity of the "celebration" but it was very sweet (bittersweet, certainly) to watch my handsome little men sing to their sister.

Sleep child of mine, as the stars shine above. I love you as much as a Mommy can love.

IMG_2664

Posted by Valerie Nelson | Comments: (1) | Permalink

FLASHBACK

Sep 08, 2010 04:08am (EST)

We made no "announcement" but there will hopefully be a new little one joining our family...but hopefully not until the end of the year. There have been various issues from the beginning, and that, coupled with my (truthfully, *our*) fears from losing Caitlyn and miscarrying the twins led us to a very cautious approach to sharing news of this pregnancy. Yes, Tyler was born healthy and at full-term with few complications, but I couldn't help but feel we were tempting fate with this pregnancy, despite the fact that we dearly want to raise a third child.

So, I hid my belly from even close friends for as long as possible; we didn't call far-away friends to tell the news. We shared with our families, in strict confidence, for fear of having to face those many saddened, not-knowing-what-to-say looks.

Now at 23 weeks but having felt contractions for many weeks, I found myself at the emergency room this weekend...and quickly realized that it was only one day later than when I was hospitalized five years ago in an attempt to prolong my pregnancy with Caitlyn. Panic then set in. I was no longer the positive voice trying to calm my husband's obvious fears. Memories of those too-short weeks flooded my mind and I was desperate to *not* repeat history.

Thankfully, I was in my own bed that night, kissing the picture of my Bean that graces my nightstand.

I know that any pregnancy following the death of one's child is traumatic in its own way, despite the outcome. I enjoyed a stressful and fearful but full-term pregnancy three years after losing Caitlyn. My husband and I entered the (long) planning of this pregnancy knowing the logistical challenges we would have (we are in the middle of yet another international move but will be State-side for most of the pregnancy and several months following, just as we wanted), but my husband, especially, seemed to be completely unprepared for the worries he would develop at the first sign of early contractions. And, following my Labor Day ER visit and subsequent increased medical care, my nerves are rather on end.

I will now spend my days planted on the couch, happily, certainly, with high hopes to *not* meet my wee one for some months; enjoying every second I spend with this amazing miracle; knowing that it is my last pregnancy because the risks are simply too great for such an innocent being.

But, I am unsure how long this fear of losing yet another child will last. I have had some amazing opportunities to make an impact in the neonatal healthcare realm since losing Caitlyn; I *thought* I had dealt with my grief and fears and incorporated that experience into something positive (as much as possible, that is to say). Yet I find one event has quickly brought me right back to those days five years ago.

The death of one's child certainly stays with a parent and shapes the life we lead.

Posted by Valerie Nelson | Comments: (4) | Permalink

HER BEAUTIFUL FACE

Apr 21, 2010 07:01pm (EST)

My daughter had such a beautiful face. She had gorgeous dark eyes, a head full of hair, long arms and legs just like her dad. She was so much more beautiful than I could have ever expected. She was so much more important than I could have ever expected. She had such a beautiful face...And I can't remember it anymore.

This has been on my mind for a few weeks, now, but I have resisted talking about it because I felt that if I did, if I actually spoke the words or wrote down that thought, then it would really be true. And, it is painful to think that it's true.

The Bean Team is walking for MOD for the fifth year this coming Saturday...in London again. For some reason, the number five has such significance, is such a milestone, isn't it? It's true for many instances, and when it refers to remembering someone it seems to take on an ominous tone. *Five* years...Five whole years without my daughter in my arms...Five years wondering "what if?"...Five years trying to find a new "normal"...Five years of heartache. That pain isn't at the surface every day, of course, but it will always be there in some respect.

I feel quite guilty that I cannot seem to picture Caitlyn's face in my mind. I can see her tiny hand holding my finger; I can picture her long leg propped over the support blanket; I can see her phototherapy "goggles," as we used to joke. But, I can't seem to recall the details of her gorgeous face. Yes, we have pictures - not nearly enough, of course - but admitting that I can no longer visualize the soft curves of her nose and lips, well, it breaks my heart and I feel that I have, yet again, failed my daughter.

Yet, as I just typed that sentence, a completely unexpected sight of one particular moment with her flashed in my mind...Not the picture I have tried to remember, but another of a special time spent with her. Why could I not think of that before? Was that my incredible daughter's way of showing me she is, indeed, still with me? I wonder...I believe...

I love you, sweetheart.

Posted by Valerie Nelson | Comments: (3) | Permalink

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