Surviving the first birthday without him.

Little D should be here on earth, turning 8. Instead, he is in heaven, and his Dad and I visited his grave and went for a walk on his birthday. We let go of 8 balloons at the cemetary, in honour of his birthday. But his Dad and I know that little D will always be seven. Forever Seven.

There are no words to express how hard it is to live without our little boy. He was and is everything to us. His death left an unbelievably large hole, a huge gaping hole. I will never be complete again.

To all bereaved parents out there...you have my deepest sympathy that you are going through this.

Progress on my 2nd IVF at age 44.

Last Friday, July 16th, I had my egg retrieval. We were not expecting good news. All thru this IVF, there have been only 4 follicles clearly on display, with a couple that may or may not have been follicles.

The week leading up the teh 16th, we uuumed and aaarged over whether to convert the cycle to IUI. My RE thinks that because I've successfully had a baby, that this method could work. But in my heart, I have lost confidence in IUI. We've had 5 - 3 medicated and 2 natural, and none of these have worked. So I took the bull by the horns, got my husband on board, and went with IVF.

As I was in recovery from ER, my husband was waiting there for me, with the news that we retrieved 11 eggs. Shocked and surprised, in the best way possible.

Then, on Saturday morning, we got the call from RE's office that 10 were mature, and 9 fertilized. The RE wants to take these to 5-day blastocysts rather than a 3-day transfer like last time. He thinks the embryos looks good, and feels sure that we'll have a decent number to transfer at day 5. Again, shocked and surprised.

It's now Monday and I'm waiting to hear from RE office, as to how the embryos are growing. I'm feeling like I may possibly have mild OHSS systems, so I let the nurse know, after spending most of the morning researching online.

Also on Saturday, it was m husbands birthday. He turned 48. My birthday was the previous week, and I turned 44. The age is only relevant in terms of my fertility struggles, other than that I don't give a fig. It was our first birthday since our little boy died, and we were feeling desperately sad that he wasn't here with us. I wish I had a stronger faith in God, so that I could believe I will see him again. It's all I wish for. This is a work in progress, this God thing, and I need to give it time and hope that I come around to believing that Dominic's life is not over, and that I will hold my adorable little boy in my arms again.

Missing my funny, silly boy.

Not a day goes by that I don't miss my wonderful little boy Dominic. Grieving and missing him and getting through the day is still minute by minute. I went to Costco this morning, and felt like I was bombarded with reminders of all the things he liked. Yogurt drinks, fruit chews, little boys summer clothes and swim suits, so many reminders of what he was and now is not. Living without him is just getting through the day as best I can, using distractions and trying to keep busy, until I can get some relief from the pain whilst asleep.

I miss you and love you more than words can say, darling boy. Never was a child more loved. My greatest hope now is that you're safe in heaven, in the care of your wonderful Nana, and that we will see each other again. Your Dad firmly believes this, and I hope it's true.

Dealing with family after losing a young child.

This is the first 4th of July since little D died. I'm feeling so sad, so lost and so angry that he's not here. How can my adorable 7 year old boy be missing another holiday? It's not fair.

I got a text from my older sister a couple of days ago. The text ends with a question "tell me what I can do to help." I haven't been able to respond for a couple of reasons. Since little D died, I've felt like the grief and support from her and the rest of my family has been very half hearted, very much on their terms.

For instance, in the first weeks and months after his death, I didn't want to leave the house. I told my sister this, and asked her to visit me (she works about 10 minutes from my house). She came one time, but the second time, she had me pick her up so we could go for lunch. This was a big mistake, trying to be out in public before I was ready was extremely difficult for me, and it put me in bed for the next few days. So, I wasn't about to do that again. I've told my sister that this doesn't work for me; I need to talk about little D, and when I do I cry, so being out in public and trying to eat, that's just not going to happen. When she's asked me to meet for lunch, I've been very firm about not going again. But never has she offered to stop by again - the 10 minutes each way to my house seems to be too much trouble for her.

Two months ago, in May, I accepted a dinner invite at her house, and again, it turned out to be not a good move for me. I was teary, her son had his new girlfriend there who I barely know, it was just not a good evening. I left early, and have no intention of repeating this.

I realize this sounds very ungrateful....really, I do. I was never this person before I lost my son. I was a good girl, a team player, a content Mum. But since his death I am a bottomless pit of need, need that never gets met. No matter what is offered I always want more, more talk of my son, asking how they can help, offers to help with our fundraiser, whatever it is, I'm not getting enough to make me feel better. But at the same time, I don't think I'm being offered even the basics. Weeks go by before I get a call or text from my sister.

Tomorrow my sister is going to England (where the rest of our family lives), for a vacation. I'm beyond livid (here's where the unreasonable piece comes into play again). She's going to stay with one of my younger sisters. On FB all week, there's been communication, planning dinners and drinkfests, and get-togethers, and I am seething with anger. Anger that life goes on for family who are supposed to be grieving. They should be standing with me, as furious as I am for what happened to my son, their nephew.

So I don't suppose I'll respond to the text. There's nothing that I could say to explain exactly how or why I feel like this. Except that my only child, my wonderful little 7 year boy who battled through heart surgeries, chemotherapy for 2 years, and many other horrific procedures, this boy lost his life and it's not fair.

Starting my 2nd IVF cycle...and other events following child loss.

It's coming up time to start my second IVF cycle, and these are my thoughts as I go though this again.

I haven't talked about my first cycle...it was successful to a certain extent. I'm 43, and wasn't sure what to expect. My RE managed to retrieve 13 eggs last time, and we chose to put back 3 embryos. We managed to get pregnant, but lost the baby at 8 weeks. Devastated again. So much grief and heartbreak. But nothing compared to losing my son, Little D, last September (9 months ago).

This IVF cycle, we are doing the same protocol. BCPs, Lupron, and stimming with GonalF and Menopur. I stopped BCP yesterday, and I'm due to start stabbing twice a day with Lupron on Wednesday, followed by stimming meds.

My husband, Big Daddy, signed for the meds and couldn't believe how big the box was with all the stuff. He'll be even more shocked when we get the credit card statement - LOL.

Last weekend, my stepson, Big D, went to comfortzonecamp.org for the weekend. This camp is for kids/teens that have lost a parent or sibling. They have grief therapy, and talk about their lost loved ones, as well as tons of age appropriate activities. Big D wasn't sure about going - he didn't know anywhere there, and would rather spend the weekend in his room playing Wii and going on the computer. But when we picked him up on Sunday, he told us he's had an amazing experience. He made friends with another teenage boy (who'd lost his Dad), and they've been texting since they got home.

It's been very, very hard to go on living without my little D. I've woken up in the morning and thought, how will I get through another day without my adorable little boy. Mostly my hubby has been parenting Big D, I couldn't or wouldn't parent for many months, as it was too painful. I'm not sure if I'm suffering from depression; it's enough for me to say that I'm grief stricken and devastated. But since we met with comfort zone staff and volunteers, and they talked about how the kids (including Bid D) are grieving, I've been a better parent. Knowing that Big D is grieving his brother, but doing it very differently to us parents, has helped me understand and cope a little better.

You're only as happy as your saddest child.

There’s a phrase that goes something like this “You’re only as happy as your saddest child”. I always thought that was a wise quote. My mother raised me and my three sisters with the best of intent and much success, and I saw her doing her utmost to make us all as happy as we could be. Little did I know she did it all with a heart broken beyond belief, as she too was a bereaved mother. I always knew that losing a child must have been awful, I just didn’t know quite how awful it was. She had buried our brother Ian when he was almost two years old, and only now do I understand how tremendously difficult this had to have been for her.

You ARE only as happy as your saddest child. Once you’ve had a child, you come to know this phrase is true. If one of your children is sick, you want to get them better, to fix them. When our little Dominic was sick, we moved heaven and earth to get him better, all the while knowing that his recovery was the only way we could be happy again. If another child has had a bad day at school, you empathize and badly want to fix it. Sometimes you try and fix it, whatever IT is, and you manage it. Other times you can’t fix it. But you always want to try. Because until they’re happy, you can’t be.

This phrase got me thinking about how this quote works now, after one’s child has died. The worst has happened. The child is gone, will always be gone. They are no longer here in real life. Therefore, for me, I feel like I will always be gone, no longer here in real life. Where else could I be?

Trying to find my voice.

This is a blog about the devastating loss of my adorable son "Little D", and our attempts to try and go forward with life, and find some meaning again. If anyone knows if this is possible I would love to hear it.

But so far, it's been anything but easy. Little D was my only child. He died 8 months ago, on 19th September 2009, and I will discuss how we came to this place in another post when I have more time. For now I will say that the life we loved ended, and joy and happiness were replaced with grief and loss, the likes of which I had never imagined. To anyone else our there who has lost a child....I offer you my deepest sincerest condolences.

Now, my husband, let's call him "Big Daddy", and I are trying to scrape our life back together. We are left with my husband's son, my stepson "Big D", who has immense needs that I'm unable to meet anymore. Big Daddy has had to step up and parent as I've been unable to.

For the last six months we've been trying to have another child. I am 43 and Big Daddy is 46. Being 46 is just fine for a potential father, but 43 is anything but fine to try and be a mother. So far we've done 3 IUIs, all BFN, and then in March we tried IVF. The IVF was better than we could have hoped given my age. My RE retrieved 13 eggs, 9 fertilized, we put back 3 and froze the remaining 6. I got a positive pregnancy test, and we had a little hope back in our lives. But then, at our 8 week ultrasound, the baby's heartbeat was no longer there.

Devastated again.