Silence.

I haven't felt much like writing, journaling or even texting. I'm guessing this is another phase of numbness, another step along the grieving path. The grief is a part of me now, something I let out every once in a while so that it doesn't build up too much.

I wrote something in my journal one day after going to church on Sunday. Church was hard during the singing. It's as if I'm staring at heaven, knowing Cayden is there and how good it is, and it uplifts and breaks my heart at the same time. I've been savoring this poignancy since it is one that does not overwhelm me and it is a source of hope.

The Orclette asked me the other day why I was still sad, why I still had days where I struggled to function normally. I told her that it would never truly go away, but that she and Miniorc were sources of joy for me.

It has to be a rough time to be a friend to someone, after they've lost someone. I'm fortunate (not really fortunate, of course, since I'd rather it not happen at all) in that my friends understand grief. There are some who still look as though they don't know how to talk to me, but there are others who understand, who don't flinch when I talk about my memories of Cayden.

I have better days and weeks. I'm not always morose, in fact quite the opposite. I know I'll see him again, that he is safe. During our Sunday service last week during the singing I saw, in my mind's eye, if you will, a little boy that looked like Miniorc but not quite. I couldn't focus on that image too long, and I don't know if it was me, merely thinking about what he looked like, or a vision, but it is comforting. As it says in the Bible,

"The last enemy to be destroyed is death." 1 Corinthians 15:26.

And it is Friday.

The Maker's Diet: it makes so much sense.

For those of you not familiar with Joel Rubin's The Maker's Diet it's a Creationist lifestyle that parallels the Primal/Paleo lifestyle (they both end up at similar ending points but are based on different premises). I've talked about it but never actually read his book (I think I skimmed it at one point). I'm still not through the whole thing-I read a chapter yesterday filled with terms I hadn't heard before and came out of it knowing only that phytates are bad. The rest of it went over my head.

The book was written to illustrate Rubin's fight with Crohn's, which he very nearly died from and now has no symptoms of. He tried every diet out there, visited numerous legitimate doctors and also tried numerous quack ones. No one could permanently help him. Once he came across this Biblically-based one he jumped into it feet first and had an amazing transformation. He became convinced that many of our illnesses stem from our modern diet-something which many people nowadays are becoming convinced of, Christian or not. He wrote the book and started a company (blah, forgot the name and the book is in my kitchen and I'm not in my kitchen ...) in order to help people who had issues that weren't being fully treated by modern medical practices (he does emphasize that the medical world is very necessary, especially emergency care, but that adequate preventative care is almost non-existent).

What I find fascinating is the plan's basis on Scripture. Not just Genesis-there is a diet out there called based on that book but I found it unlivable-but the entirety of the Old Testament. The emphasis is on the foods God made for us: vegetables, fruit, dairy from cows or goats, seeds, legumes, fermented stuff, and kosher meats. Rubin points out that the ancient Israelites were spared from many of the diseases that plagued people groups around them (unless they were actively ignoring God, which did happen frequently) due to the advanced hygiene instructions (for the time, and they even apply to modern times) that God had given them. He goes into quite a bit of detail, delving into different academic realms to illustrate his point (i.e. anthropology and archaeology). That part of the book I totally understood.

One thing that both Damm and I won't be giving up, and which Rubin proposes one should, is caffeine. I drink two cups daily and then switch to decaf. It's not that I couldn't live without caffeine-I could, and have-but that it's part of my morning ritual. Damm simply isn't going to give up caffeine. Another thing which he cautions against is tattoos, but his approach is different from any I've heard before. He cautions against them because of possible blood infections (which definitely can happen if you don't use a reputable and responsible artist) and possible nerve damage of tattooed skin. It's too late for me, and his advice probably wouldn't have stopped me anyway, but it's very interesting.

So I'm excited. I love Mark Sisson's blog and will continue to read it (and other Primal/Paleo sites), but I simply cannot agree with his starting point (which is basically that humans evolved from a non-human state). Rubin's stance is that we were wonderfully created with loving detail by God, as He said in His word, and that I agree with (not trying to preach here, but it is what I believe, and I would be remiss if I did not write about it).

I have found yet another side effect to having had a MC (not sad, just frustrating). Paleo diet, anyone?

I mean, other than the emotional and physical weirdness that occurs and that is completely normal. What I didn't expect was to suddenly gain three pounds and then not be able to take it off. I'm currently nine pounds heavier than I was pre-Cayden.

At this point if I expressed my angst most people would say not to worry about it, that I've been through a trauma and it just takes a while to go back to normal. I know this. It doesn't really help. For me, and I'm sure for countless others, getting back to normal, whatever that was for you, is a way of reasserting control in a situation that is out of your control. So it is hard to accept that yet another thing is not up to you, especially when you've had eating disorders in the past like I have (which is another way of trying to assert control over something). I won't return to those habits-God pulled me out of that way of life for a reason-and fortunately I have a set pattern of how to lose weight to return to: the paleo lifestyle.

I've done more reading on the subject and found some new blogs, new perspectives. Did you know you can subsist entirely on raw meat? Peggy the Primal Parent (who wrote the blog) is absolutely fascinating. I read about her experiences eating paleo during pregnancy and came away truly inspired. Of course, being inspired doesn't really help when you're in the throes of morning sickness (I'm not, but I keep on reading about this stuff. Haven't truly let go yet.). I've hit the whole9life website (the co-founder is pregnant and also writing about her experiences) and have started reading Mark Sisson's blog posts again (for awhile I couldn't read about meat. It was almost as bad as smelling it). And I've returned to my old favorite foods: eggs, bacon, eggs and bacon. With a few other things on the side.

We've also decided to be outside as often as possible. We bought an annual pass to a nearby park and have gone hiking there (photos of the Miniorc and Orclette hiking up a storm coming soon). We've continued walking to our favorite coffee place (about a four-mile round trip). My parents and I have taken our cool new jogging stroller (it's awesome-I'll take photos of it some day) out into the desert for some resistance training and my little container garden is coming along nicely. I'll take photos of that as well one of these days.

So, happy Friday. I'm always excited when this day comes around, because it means I get to #1 sleep in and #2 play outside. I think I had some sort of Vitamin D deficiency this winter because my cravings for sunshine have been pretty strong and I found it necessary to supplement. I might also need to buy some sunscreen that isn't expired ...

Our night with the arrested dudes. Or rather, in the ER.

Have I shared the story of how I took the Miniorc to the ER for the worst diaper rash case in history? He had just been born. My mother and I were exhausted (Damm was in AIT) and perhaps not thinking entirely rationally. He had been uncomfortable, crying and not sleeping. When my mom changed his diaper she saw blood, so of course we were in full emergency mode. I had no idea who to call so we went to the ER, where we found out it was a diaper rash. While we were there, though, we got to experience the antics of someone completely drunk or high (not sure which) who was bursting through room doors all over the ER. I had gone to the bathroom so it was just my mom and her newborn grandson when he came through our door. I don't think she's viewed that ER in the same benevolent way again.

Anyway, back to the present time. Damm has been having excruciating headaches. He described it as a 10 on that 1-10 scale (hah. Sorry love, I've been through labor, and they told me my pain couldn't be a 10). Then yesterday he began to get dizzy, numb and also nauseous so he scheduled a doctor's appointment. She told him to go to the ER so we dutifully went and prepared to wait. And wait. And wait. I decided I had been quite spoiled by the many times I had brought the Orclette or Miniorc here, as they had been given a room immediately. When we finally were brought back, we got to share the room with a rather dubious looking character and his police escort. By the end of the hour I could tell his story better than he could, since he seemed to be on something and got various words confused (and he kept repeating the same things). He also broke down crying every five minutes or so. Fun, yes? And he wasn't the only one being escorted. The ER we frequent (and I do mean frequent; I recognized many of the personnel) seems to be where the police bring the ones needing medical attention.

At this point Damm finally was sent to various rooms to be tested. They did pretty much everything, and then we waited anxiously, since his symptoms could describe any number of things, many of them scary. When our PA came in and said he knew exactly what was wrong he almost looked jolly. I wondered if maybe he didn't get to give good news very often? Turns out all Damm had was sinusitis. His right sinus cavity is completely blocked/and infected. He's been put on steroids and antibiotics and we're hoping that maybe we've discovered the root cause of the fatigue he's been feeling, since he's not been able to breath out of his nose for years and sinus troubles can cause that.

So that was our fun and entertaining night in the ER. Not quite how I had envisioned spending my afternoon/evening, but now that Damm knows what's wrong he's relaxed (he had, as I'm sure many of us do when we have strange symptoms, convinced himself that something was seriously wrong) and we have good insurance to pay for the many expensive tests he underwent. And I have an amusing anecdote about the man who kept telling the police officer his life's story over and over for more than three hours.

Continuing on.

Did you know that Mary, mother of Jesus, personally takes care of the babies in heaven? The Orclette informed me of this fact a couple of weeks ago. It startled us at first-not being raised Catholic, we simply didn't talk or hear about Mary other than at Christmas-but then we agreed. Who knows? And her statement was beautiful, since she merely assumed that Jesus, who loves us, would want his own mama to take care of Cayden since we couldn't. She's come up with a few other tear-inducing observations as well, and also a song, which I had to ask her to stop singing. We had just visited his grave and I simply was not able to handle the refrain of "I love you Cayden". But it too was beautiful.

And here we are, nearly one month afterwards. We are back in our routines and it has helped. The concerned looks and hugs from people have stopped, which is good, since now I'm not prepared to handle them. I veer wildly from joyful to depressed with little warning. I've had a few panic attacks; nothing too serious, I've always been able to talk myself down from them. I've read that this is normal and due to hormonal fluctuations, which is reassuring, since it means that it will eventually stop. In a way this inconsistent emotional state is worse than continual grief, since I have no bulwark prepared for it.

And what truly has helped are these little guys, who need a somewhat stable parental unit:

(Writing thank you cards to their great-grandma, which probably didn't get sent out given the events that occurred after these were made)

This mornings drawing finished

While waiting at school...

Notes taken at church

Threads.

As you may have surmised from the previous post our third child has preceded us to heaven. At our thirteen week appointment they couldn't find a heartbeat. They rushed me into the ultrasound room to take a closer look. It was one of the hardest things I've had to do, since I knew I was looking at my dead baby. Damm wasn't there; we hadn't had any inkling of anything being wrong so I thought it was just going to be a routine, in-and-out thing. It was a Tuesday. Friday we went into the hospital so they could induce me. I asked for another ultrasound, not because I thought they were wrong but because I knew I would have nightmares if I didn't make sure. Once again, no movement, no blood flow, no heartbeat.

So they put the little pills in and we settled down to wait. Once the pain hit I asked for drugs because I didn't want to feel anything. For six hours Damm and I sat together, trying not to feel or think. Then my water broke and I did too. All the emotions I had tried to control became uncontrollable. I asked Damm to read verses to me from the Bible about heaven. Then our midwife came in and was able to pull the baby out. I asked to see, dreading it but knowing I needed to. I think that was another worst moment; I vaguely remember sobbing the words "Oh God" and then "don't let me drop him" (they were able to determine it was a boy" as they gave him to me to hold. We took pictures, they took pictures and it's something I don't think I will ever share. He was perfect; I could see all ten minuscule fingers and toes. Then they left us to recover and to monitor my condition. An hour or so later I asked to see Cayden again. I hadn't been able to say I loved him or say goodbye when I had first held him. They brought him in, four inches long and weighing barely anything wrapped in a little knit hand towel. We said goodbye, I said I loved him, and then I asked them to take his body away. Once they determined everything was ok with me they discharged us. I asked for an Ambien so I wouldn't dream.

Then another few days of torture began. We scheduled his funeral for the following Thursday. Dreams, horrible ones, haunted me and I didn't want to sleep. I didn't feel like I could properly grieve until after the funeral. The day of the funeral I held myself together remarkably well. It was very small, very beautiful and just what I wanted. The baby area looks like a butterfly garden. That night the dreams stopped; I knew Cayden was safe in heaven and also safe on earth. The grieving, the kind that only time can try to subdue, has just begun.

People ask me how I am. I say I'm functional. Really, though, only Tolkien suffices:

“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand, there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep...that have taken hold.” 
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

Caoilfhionn Cayden Wauson

Caoilfhionn meant Fair.  Cayden meant Fighter.  But for the rest of my life Caoilfhionn Cayden will mean the sound the desert makes when it cries for you. 

I didn’t get a chance to meet you.  I didn’t get a moment to greet you.  I never held you in my arms.  I miss you though I never knew you.  I weep though I never heard you. 

God, take my child with you.  Raise my child like I never got to.  Teach my child like I wanted to.  Love my child like I do.

Caoilfhionn Cayden Wauson 

Born in heaven but not on Earth.