MISCARRIAGES.
I have had three miscarriages on my journey through motherhood. The first was my second conception and I didn't even know that I was pregnant until I had a very big bleed one night. I wasn't sure if it was just a very heavy period or a miscarriage. I had this amazing dream though, that I was standing in my hallway and could see out onto the road and a hearse with a tiny coffin in it was driving slowly by and a woman was walking next to the hearse crying and she looked up at me and I knew a baby had died. The next day I went to the hospital which was a waste of time as there was nothing anyone could do. I don't remember grieving the loss or being very upset other than for a couple of days after the event. My good friend also was moving interstate that very same day so I think there was a mixture of grief. I did get that the baby was a boy and his name was Benjamin.
My next miscarriage was very different. This was my fifth conception and was a funny pregnancy..not the usual sort of feelings and bodily changes. At 12 weeks we started to tell people as we thought we were over the initial period when you do tend to lose babies. I felt strange telling people but didn't know why. Then I started to have some bleeding. My midwife ordered me off my feet to rest. I did this for five days as I bled and I quilted to distract myself from my thoughts.Then one night I had intense pains like labour pains and I tried to ignore them and the more I did the more they hurt. So I started to breath through them, like a labour. I had a strong urge to go to the toilet where I concentrated on letting go and out popped the sac with the tiny fetus inside. It felt like I had just given birth and there was the same excitement so I called my husband and son and showed them...its a baby! They both went queasy ...not a good idea. I found the experience amazingly beautiful. This time I didn't go to the hospital and recuperated at home. We named the baby Darcy Davina as I got that she was a girl. We gathered together and did a ceremony honouring the spirit of the baby and we planted the fetus in with Leteisha's ashes with some beautiful pink and orange gerberas. Then celebrated with afternoon tea.
I conceived again shorty after Darcy's pregnancy and again waited 12 weeks before telling people and this time only told close friends. At 17 weeks I started to have a bleed, just mild spotting this time, which can be common in pregnancy. At 18 weeks my midwife came and used a Doplar machine to see if we could get a heartbeat, but we didn't. My 20 week ultrasound appointment was only a week away so I chose to wait. I thought that if I was going to miscarry something dramatic would happen, but nothing did. We went for our ultrasound appointment and it was confirmed that the baby was dead and had been for awhile.We spent the weekend trying natural methods to bring on the miscarry but to no avail and the following week I ended up in hospital having a D&C procedure. The doctors and staff were pretty amazing and I asked to keep the remains of the baby to take home. At first this request nearly turned into a bureaucratic nightmare but the Doctor doing the procedure had common sense and said that I could take the remains with me straight after the operation rather than going through the system. As I was coming out of the operation a nurse handed me a small paper bag and said " here is your baby" and then tucked it into my arms like I was being presented with a full term baby. That single act made the whole process a good experience. I went home and we did a small ceremony with just our family and buried the baby's remains in the same pot with Leteisha and Darcy. This baby was also a girl and I named her Clarissa. This experience really rocked me and I was finding it hard to deal with. Some friends were getting married in the country on their farm so I went on my own to have a break. The morning before the Wedding Ceremony I went into the bush and sat on a rocky out crop and looked at the sky and cried and asked; Why me? Why do I have to keep dealing with grief? I have had enough? I t is not fair? and so on. Then for the Wedding Ceremony we walked through the paddocks up to a sacred site where the vows were to be said. My friends' cows followed us up and as we were waiting I noticed that one cow had afterbirth still visible and I thought that she had just given birth when someone said that it had been a stillborn. I burst into tears and then I got it as clear as day....THIS IS LIFE! COWS MISCARRY! PEOPLE MISCARRY! LIFE AND DEATH ENTWINED! THE CIRCLE OF LIFE!<>
I felt a great sense of relief after that moment. It still didn't take away my pain but it definitely eased it.
I conceived again after that pregnancy and had two beautiful babies Michael and Ruby....life had come full circle yet again. It finally felt complete. The cow also went on to conceive.
These experiences have shown me how important it is to honour each and every death and for me, to create rituals which help to acknowledge and move on from those experiences in order to be able to heal the pain and grief. Also to honour every spirit that comes to this world even for the briefest time and thank it for its presence in our life.
Monday
Tuesday
ARIANDEL OF AVALON
My dear friend Ariandel or the Crone, as I call her, has a wonderful blog about her garden and the changing of the seasons. She has taught me much about the seasons and rituals to celebrate them. It was many conversations with her about death that led me to much of my enquiry and to writing this blog. She is in her 70's and a computer whizz coaching me as I go. Please follow the link to check out her blog; http://www.gardenofavalon.blogspot.com/
Ariandel has now written her own blog called "Funerals To Die For", which is worth checking out.
Ariandel has now written her own blog called "Funerals To Die For", which is worth checking out.
Monday
HEALING THROUGH KINESIOLOGY.
Part of my healing from Leteishas death was regular Kinesiology sessions with a wonderful Perth practitioner Sahaja at Best Health Centre in Perth. It provided me with the physical, emotional and spiritual healing that I needed in my process of grief. I don't think I would have come through the experience as well as I have, if it wasn't for those sessions. I continue to go regularly and my grief still pops up every now and then, just to remind me to keep letting go.
Please follow the links for more information.
http://besthealth.com.au/
http://light-up-the-world.blogspot.com/
http://www.perthkinesiology.info/
Please follow the links for more information.
http://besthealth.com.au/
http://light-up-the-world.blogspot.com/
http://www.perthkinesiology.info/
PERSONAL EXPERIENCES PART TWO.
Leteishas Death.
Leteisha was my second born child who was birthed at home, in a water tub, in the early hours of the morning. It was a quick and powerful birth and my first successful home water birth. She was a chubby cheeked cherub of a baby who had so many adventures in her short life and seemed to just want to explore the world and all it had to offer at a lightening pace. One day,when she was 8 months old, I put her to bed after a busy day at the swimming pool. It had been a typical Perth scorcher of a summers day. She seemed to be sleeping longer than normal and when I went to check on her I could not find her where I had left her on the bed. My mind could not make sense of what was going on and then I noticed her little foot sticking out from in between the bed and wall. She was very hot and not breathing. I rang 000 while my husband did CPR. It seemed to take forever for the ambulance to arrive. When they did I paced in circles like I had when in labour with her. They worked on her but I knew she was dead. I looked at my husband and said "she's dead!" but the ambulance guys snapped at me that she was just not breathing. They took her in the ambulance and I remember thinking "why bother!she's dead".
But of course you are in shock and just go with what is happening. The first person I called was my midwife and my aunt, one to take me to the hospital, the other to care for my son who had slept through this whole scenario.
Once at the hospital Leteisha had been put on life support and the doctor came to spell out the facts. I did not know whether I wanted to shit or spue it was so overwhelming. I ended up collapsing in the fetal position on the floor. The rest of the night was spent with Leteisha, so small, in a bed, with tubes hanging off her everywhere. I continually put rescue remedy on her forehead and told her that if she needed to go to do so.
The next day decisions had to be made about taking her off the life support. I knew that once that had been done that I wanted to take her body home. I begged and pleaded and my Aunt spoke to the Coronial officer who gave us the permission. Infant deaths are immediately deemed to have a Coronial Enquiry, in Australia. There was no way I wanted to leave my baby in the hospital.
The machines were turned off and we took hand and foot prints and locks of hair as mementos. This was offered by the hospital. We wrapped her up and we walked out of the hospital and went home.
My wonderful friends had been and created a beautiful space for us. I bathed with Leteisha, as I had done every day, one last time. I oiled her body and combed her hair and cut her finger nails. All the things that I felt I needed to do as a mother. I felt so connected to all of the women, everywhere, in every time gone by, who had tended to their loved ones and prepared their bodies in this way. It was such a healing and powerful experience. We then wrapped her up again and returned her body to the hospital.
Then the grieving process began....the intense pain so deep, the shock, denial, grief, anger all at once. Yet the most highest transcendental highs, where there was symbolism and metaphors and connections and joy and laughter and light. A place where my creativity would just pour out of me...it was so surreal. I was so raw...I couldn't wear clothes, my body odour was extreme. At night I would put up photos and paint and slowly created an alter in memory of Leteisha, in the living room.
The community support started to kick in and we were inundated with flowers and food and offers of help. We decided to have a small closed funeral service with just our closest friends and family members. I ordered a white casket that had been the least treated because I wanted to paint it. I did not know of what is really available. The casket came and smelt so chemically, I smudged and oiled it for days to get rid of the smell. I invited the family over to decorate the coffin. We all put our hand prints on the side and the kids put stickers all over it. The night before it was to be delivered to the funeral parlour I stayed up painting the lid. I felt so connected to her spirit and the end result was beautiful. The family had all found it to be a powerful experience and not what they had anticipated. I felt that it was a really healthy way for the children to be involved and help make the experience real for them.
At the funeral we all stood in a circle and my midwife was the celebrant. We asked everyone to share and everyone spoke of Leteisha. We then placed flowers onto the coffin before going out into the gardens and releasing butterflies. The butterfly had become her symbol and is very symbolic of life cycles and transformation. We then had a memorial service in the park for the wider community a week later. In hindsight I perhaps would have done things differently but I feel I did well considering what information I had available to me at the time. I am so grateful that I had the right support and a wonderful community that cared for me and were activists on my behalf.
Leteisha was my second born child who was birthed at home, in a water tub, in the early hours of the morning. It was a quick and powerful birth and my first successful home water birth. She was a chubby cheeked cherub of a baby who had so many adventures in her short life and seemed to just want to explore the world and all it had to offer at a lightening pace. One day,when she was 8 months old, I put her to bed after a busy day at the swimming pool. It had been a typical Perth scorcher of a summers day. She seemed to be sleeping longer than normal and when I went to check on her I could not find her where I had left her on the bed. My mind could not make sense of what was going on and then I noticed her little foot sticking out from in between the bed and wall. She was very hot and not breathing. I rang 000 while my husband did CPR. It seemed to take forever for the ambulance to arrive. When they did I paced in circles like I had when in labour with her. They worked on her but I knew she was dead. I looked at my husband and said "she's dead!" but the ambulance guys snapped at me that she was just not breathing. They took her in the ambulance and I remember thinking "why bother!she's dead".
But of course you are in shock and just go with what is happening. The first person I called was my midwife and my aunt, one to take me to the hospital, the other to care for my son who had slept through this whole scenario.
Once at the hospital Leteisha had been put on life support and the doctor came to spell out the facts. I did not know whether I wanted to shit or spue it was so overwhelming. I ended up collapsing in the fetal position on the floor. The rest of the night was spent with Leteisha, so small, in a bed, with tubes hanging off her everywhere. I continually put rescue remedy on her forehead and told her that if she needed to go to do so.
The next day decisions had to be made about taking her off the life support. I knew that once that had been done that I wanted to take her body home. I begged and pleaded and my Aunt spoke to the Coronial officer who gave us the permission. Infant deaths are immediately deemed to have a Coronial Enquiry, in Australia. There was no way I wanted to leave my baby in the hospital.
The machines were turned off and we took hand and foot prints and locks of hair as mementos. This was offered by the hospital. We wrapped her up and we walked out of the hospital and went home.
My wonderful friends had been and created a beautiful space for us. I bathed with Leteisha, as I had done every day, one last time. I oiled her body and combed her hair and cut her finger nails. All the things that I felt I needed to do as a mother. I felt so connected to all of the women, everywhere, in every time gone by, who had tended to their loved ones and prepared their bodies in this way. It was such a healing and powerful experience. We then wrapped her up again and returned her body to the hospital.
Then the grieving process began....the intense pain so deep, the shock, denial, grief, anger all at once. Yet the most highest transcendental highs, where there was symbolism and metaphors and connections and joy and laughter and light. A place where my creativity would just pour out of me...it was so surreal. I was so raw...I couldn't wear clothes, my body odour was extreme. At night I would put up photos and paint and slowly created an alter in memory of Leteisha, in the living room.
The community support started to kick in and we were inundated with flowers and food and offers of help. We decided to have a small closed funeral service with just our closest friends and family members. I ordered a white casket that had been the least treated because I wanted to paint it. I did not know of what is really available. The casket came and smelt so chemically, I smudged and oiled it for days to get rid of the smell. I invited the family over to decorate the coffin. We all put our hand prints on the side and the kids put stickers all over it. The night before it was to be delivered to the funeral parlour I stayed up painting the lid. I felt so connected to her spirit and the end result was beautiful. The family had all found it to be a powerful experience and not what they had anticipated. I felt that it was a really healthy way for the children to be involved and help make the experience real for them.
At the funeral we all stood in a circle and my midwife was the celebrant. We asked everyone to share and everyone spoke of Leteisha. We then placed flowers onto the coffin before going out into the gardens and releasing butterflies. The butterfly had become her symbol and is very symbolic of life cycles and transformation. We then had a memorial service in the park for the wider community a week later. In hindsight I perhaps would have done things differently but I feel I did well considering what information I had available to me at the time. I am so grateful that I had the right support and a wonderful community that cared for me and were activists on my behalf.
BOOK REVIEWS
COMING TO REST:A GUIDE TO CARING FOR OUR OWN DEAD by Julie Wiskind and Richard Spiegal.
This book is a great book...very simply written and structured and has some wonderful checklists to help people get organised if a death is impending. It is an American based book and the laws relate to USA only.
SACRED DYING: CREATING RITUALS FOR EMBRACING THE END OF LIFE by Megory Anderson.
I love this book...Megory talks about her experiences as a Death Doula, vigiling with dying people in either their home or hospital/hospice. She talks about how important it is to create a sacred space for the person who is dying and creating rituals to assist them in their process. These rituals are to help them resolve issues that are preventing them from letting go and dying. Other rituals are designed to help the person move easily through the dying process. Her focus is always on the dying persons needs and attending to the spiritual aspects of dying, recognising their beliefs and honouring these. It is a very easy to read book and her personal experiences are inspiring.
This book is a great book...very simply written and structured and has some wonderful checklists to help people get organised if a death is impending. It is an American based book and the laws relate to USA only.
SACRED DYING: CREATING RITUALS FOR EMBRACING THE END OF LIFE by Megory Anderson.
I love this book...Megory talks about her experiences as a Death Doula, vigiling with dying people in either their home or hospital/hospice. She talks about how important it is to create a sacred space for the person who is dying and creating rituals to assist them in their process. These rituals are to help them resolve issues that are preventing them from letting go and dying. Other rituals are designed to help the person move easily through the dying process. Her focus is always on the dying persons needs and attending to the spiritual aspects of dying, recognising their beliefs and honouring these. It is a very easy to read book and her personal experiences are inspiring.
Tuesday
PERSONAL EXPERIENCES WITH DEATH AND DYING PART 1.
CORMACS' DEATH.
Cormac was my younger brother who had Cerebral Palsy from his birth, and was severely physically disabled because of this condition. I think my parents were told that he would not have a very long life expectancy due to the extremity of his disability. He had a great life and very warped sense of humour. His care and needs placed a great deal of strain on our family unit, as did the shame associated with having a disabled child. He lived at home until he was 16/17 years old and then went into care, firstly just for weekends and then for the week. He slowly got more and more scoliosis which started to create health issues for him. From the time that he was about 18years old he started to have funny breathing spells which meant he was rushed to hospital, for short stays and required treatment for respiratory problems. These spells become closer and closer and every time I expected the worse. The last time I went to visit him at the nursing home was to see him before I was to go interstate for a holiday for 6 weeks. As I finished the visit and started to leave the room he become quite upset and cried, I told him that I loved him and left feeling torn. In hindsight I think he knew that that would be our last time together. He had another breathing spell and ended up in hospital with pneumonia. He died in hospital alone on the day that I was due to fly out. I was lucky enough to have been able to have enough time to go and view his body at the hospital morgue before I flew out.I think this made his death real for me and gave me some sense of closure. I chose not to stay for the funeral. My grief did not set in until I returned home and found his death very difficult, being the first person close to me other than grandparents. His death did however set me on a path of self discovery and wanting to understand spirituality more...to find some meaning.
CORNELIAS' DEATH.
Cornelia was my mother who died at the very young age of 53 years. She died five years after the death of Cormac. She had been battling (literally) with cancer of the bowel and then secondary cancer of the spine for years. She had all of the medical treatment and many stays in a variety of hospitals. She was very determined to live and fought to the end. In the last stages of the cancer when we knew it was terminal I was pregnant with my first child and my two aunties (her sisters) stepped in and took on the management of her health care. Mum protected my brother and I a lot and wouldnt lead on to how much pain she was actually in. She was still alive when my son was born, and stayed around for my brothers wedding and hung in there for christmas but not long into the new year she died. She was in hospital and we all rallied around and stayed with her. She came from a large family so all of her brothers and sisters were visiting. She laboured for 4 days and it was advised that we all stop visiting so she could die. The theory being that she was hanging on for everyone. I could see this was true but it was still the hardest thing I have ever done is to say goodbye and tell her that I wasnt coming back to see her and that she needed to get on with dying.How wrong that is when I think about it...it is like inducing a woman into labour because someone has determined that a baby should come early. Anyway she died that evening alone in a hospital. I went and saw her at the hospital after she had passed. I never really got to discuss what she wanted in regards to funerals...all I knew is that she wanted to be cremated and inturned into the grave with her parents and Cormac, and she wanted apricot roses. So with all of the family politics over her eulogy and everything else I managed to organise a funeral with apricot roses. I remember wanting to wear bright colours as a way of celebrating her life and I read a poem at the service. It was a lovely funeral.We also went and viewed her body at the funeral home and she looked beautiful but somehow sureal.
I found her death very difficult and hard, mostly because i had just become a mother myself and was quite angry that she abandonded me at this time.
PETERS' DEATH.
Peter was my father who also died young at age 57years and five years after my mother. They had been seperated since Cormac had died and my relationship with him had become strained. I had had my second child a baby girl and had discontinued contact with Dad when I was pregnant with her. So he had not met her. He had been getting involved with some weird Spiritual stuff and I knew he had gone to Egypt. I received a phone call out of the blue from a woman who I had never met saying that he was in hospital with a brain tumour and it was terminal and I should go and see him. I seriously thought that this was a bad joke.I rang the hospital and found out that it was true and they advised me that he potentially had only 6-8 weeks to live.So I took my whole family to see him.His brother and sister came over to spend time with him and he chose not to opt for any medical intervention. He chose alternative methods instead. The medical interventions were only going to prolong his life for a short time so after witnessing mums prolonged death I supported his choices.He went and did everything he wanted to do before he died.We spoke openly about what he wanted for his funeral arrangements and I admire his acceptance of his luming death. When on his death bed I only managed to visit him briefly as I had my baby daughter with me.I told him that I loved him even though we never truly resolved our issues. He had a good friend by his side when he died in hospital. He wanted to just be cremated so we bought the cheapest(still expensive) casket and held a viewing at the funeral home. He looked sureal and cold...I didnt like it. Once he had been cremated and I had his ashes I organised a simple ceremony done by the river near his favourite diving spot. One of his friends built a small yacht and we poured his ashes into it and set it off into the river and watched it sink. His friends(mostly ex-girlfriends/ all blonde) toasted him with champagne and that was it. It felt good for me because I knew exactly what he wanted and could deliver that for him. We were probably more in line spiritually in our beliefs and I admire how he handled his own death. He didnt seem to fear it and managed to embrace it.
Cormac was my younger brother who had Cerebral Palsy from his birth, and was severely physically disabled because of this condition. I think my parents were told that he would not have a very long life expectancy due to the extremity of his disability. He had a great life and very warped sense of humour. His care and needs placed a great deal of strain on our family unit, as did the shame associated with having a disabled child. He lived at home until he was 16/17 years old and then went into care, firstly just for weekends and then for the week. He slowly got more and more scoliosis which started to create health issues for him. From the time that he was about 18years old he started to have funny breathing spells which meant he was rushed to hospital, for short stays and required treatment for respiratory problems. These spells become closer and closer and every time I expected the worse. The last time I went to visit him at the nursing home was to see him before I was to go interstate for a holiday for 6 weeks. As I finished the visit and started to leave the room he become quite upset and cried, I told him that I loved him and left feeling torn. In hindsight I think he knew that that would be our last time together. He had another breathing spell and ended up in hospital with pneumonia. He died in hospital alone on the day that I was due to fly out. I was lucky enough to have been able to have enough time to go and view his body at the hospital morgue before I flew out.I think this made his death real for me and gave me some sense of closure. I chose not to stay for the funeral. My grief did not set in until I returned home and found his death very difficult, being the first person close to me other than grandparents. His death did however set me on a path of self discovery and wanting to understand spirituality more...to find some meaning.
CORNELIAS' DEATH.
Cornelia was my mother who died at the very young age of 53 years. She died five years after the death of Cormac. She had been battling (literally) with cancer of the bowel and then secondary cancer of the spine for years. She had all of the medical treatment and many stays in a variety of hospitals. She was very determined to live and fought to the end. In the last stages of the cancer when we knew it was terminal I was pregnant with my first child and my two aunties (her sisters) stepped in and took on the management of her health care. Mum protected my brother and I a lot and wouldnt lead on to how much pain she was actually in. She was still alive when my son was born, and stayed around for my brothers wedding and hung in there for christmas but not long into the new year she died. She was in hospital and we all rallied around and stayed with her. She came from a large family so all of her brothers and sisters were visiting. She laboured for 4 days and it was advised that we all stop visiting so she could die. The theory being that she was hanging on for everyone. I could see this was true but it was still the hardest thing I have ever done is to say goodbye and tell her that I wasnt coming back to see her and that she needed to get on with dying.How wrong that is when I think about it...it is like inducing a woman into labour because someone has determined that a baby should come early. Anyway she died that evening alone in a hospital. I went and saw her at the hospital after she had passed. I never really got to discuss what she wanted in regards to funerals...all I knew is that she wanted to be cremated and inturned into the grave with her parents and Cormac, and she wanted apricot roses. So with all of the family politics over her eulogy and everything else I managed to organise a funeral with apricot roses. I remember wanting to wear bright colours as a way of celebrating her life and I read a poem at the service. It was a lovely funeral.We also went and viewed her body at the funeral home and she looked beautiful but somehow sureal.
I found her death very difficult and hard, mostly because i had just become a mother myself and was quite angry that she abandonded me at this time.
PETERS' DEATH.
Peter was my father who also died young at age 57years and five years after my mother. They had been seperated since Cormac had died and my relationship with him had become strained. I had had my second child a baby girl and had discontinued contact with Dad when I was pregnant with her. So he had not met her. He had been getting involved with some weird Spiritual stuff and I knew he had gone to Egypt. I received a phone call out of the blue from a woman who I had never met saying that he was in hospital with a brain tumour and it was terminal and I should go and see him. I seriously thought that this was a bad joke.I rang the hospital and found out that it was true and they advised me that he potentially had only 6-8 weeks to live.So I took my whole family to see him.His brother and sister came over to spend time with him and he chose not to opt for any medical intervention. He chose alternative methods instead. The medical interventions were only going to prolong his life for a short time so after witnessing mums prolonged death I supported his choices.He went and did everything he wanted to do before he died.We spoke openly about what he wanted for his funeral arrangements and I admire his acceptance of his luming death. When on his death bed I only managed to visit him briefly as I had my baby daughter with me.I told him that I loved him even though we never truly resolved our issues. He had a good friend by his side when he died in hospital. He wanted to just be cremated so we bought the cheapest(still expensive) casket and held a viewing at the funeral home. He looked sureal and cold...I didnt like it. Once he had been cremated and I had his ashes I organised a simple ceremony done by the river near his favourite diving spot. One of his friends built a small yacht and we poured his ashes into it and set it off into the river and watched it sink. His friends(mostly ex-girlfriends/ all blonde) toasted him with champagne and that was it. It felt good for me because I knew exactly what he wanted and could deliver that for him. We were probably more in line spiritually in our beliefs and I admire how he handled his own death. He didnt seem to fear it and managed to embrace it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
