Little Pink Surfboard

Sunlight dances like ballerinas

Off the facets of the sea

The breeze blows salt crystals

Which play through your long hair

Leave your footprints behind

On this smooth, white sand beach

The sea calls for you

Slice through those endless waves

On your little pink surfboard

*I wrote this poem, and had this little pink surfboard with Shiloh's name handmade for my husband, Andreas, for Valentine's Day this year. When I was pregnant with Shiloh, Andreas became an avid surfer and constantly talked about how he wanted to buy Shi a little pink surfboard when she was born so that they could go surfing together. He still thinks and talks about it, and probably will for the rest of our lives. As much as I wish I could bring Shi back, I can't give him the real thing, so I gave him the next best thing. When we move into a bigger place, we're going to have a dedicated area for all things Shiloh, and this board will hang over her photos and other memorabilia.

The Bad, the Good and the Inevitable

THE BAD: 
First Betamethasone (steroid) shot at 2pm yesterday (to speed up fetal lung maturity in case of preterm delivery) = slight decrease in fetal movement and fetal heart rate = me scared shitless and annoyed that I was not informed of this earlier = me frantically researching it last night = waking up every two hours to see if she is still alive = humungous headache this morning, but thankfully, a live, active baby.
Second Betamethasone shot at 2pm today = anxiety = another sleepless night


Side note: I think we need to invest in one of those $3000 Tempur-pedic mattresses so my poor, hardworking husband can get some sleep. Ya know, the ones in the commercial where you can jump up and down on the bed with a full glass of wine sitting on the other side?! So, when I'm up at 12, 2, 4, 6 and 8 am shaking my belly, he shouldn't feel a thing, right?


THE GOOD: 
From 32 weeks onwards, the baby should have heart rate accelerations to 15 beats above resting heart rate, for 15 seconds, every 20 minutes or so to show that she is "reactive" (this concept is still a bit of a conundrum to me. Isn't she reactive if I poke my belly and she moves? I guess it's more of a reactive heart rate thing though since heart rate doesn't always increase if she moves.). Anyway, she was uncharacteristically sleepy as I was doing my monitoring yesterday (thank you, steroid shot...), so I told Andreas to come talk to her. The minute he started talking, her heart rate shot up from 145 to 170! Isn't it incredible that she not only recognizes her daddy's voice, but that she responds with an increased heart rate! C'est complètement incroyable! 


THE INEVITABLE: 
I miss Shiloh profoundly. I wish she were here to experience this all with us (not all of the drama, of course. If she were here, there wouldn't be any drama!). Especially because people are constantly asking if I have other children, how old they are and what sex they are. I always say that I have a daughter, that she'd be almost 2. People never pick up on the past tense though. It's just as well. I always end up crying and running away if I have to talk about her not being here.


I'm in awe of the fact that I'll be celebrating her 2nd birthday- alone (sniff, sniff)- in just 5 days. It feels like an eternity without her, but it also feels like she was born just yesterday. Time is so strange. In reference to the bizarreness of time, I found this quote that resonated with me: "The flower that you hold in your hands was born today and already it is as old as you are." -Antonio Porchia, Voces 1943. It hits home.

Broken

I feel so broken inside

Torn into miniscule pieces

By the lack of your solidity

The barrenness of my arms

Nothing erases the pain of your loss

And day after day

I wish I could go back

        back to two years ago

      To protect myself from who I am today

Because now, it’s as if I

      see with only one eye

      breathe with only one lung

      feel with only half my heart

I am only half here

I am only half gone

Detached

I feel so detached

    Detached from you

    Detached from this new life

    Detached from reality

    Detached because of fear

         Fear is so incapacitating

         Its icy fingers grip my heart

                    My mind

An uncompromising grip

I wish I felt differently

I wish this fear didn’t taint my thoughts

      Hinder my grieving for you

      My bonding with your sister

I’m so sorry, babies

                            But, I love you through this fear

                                                   I just hope that you feel it

Shiloh's Totem

a ladybug crawls across

my sunglass lens,

out of focus, from the inside

I take them off to get a look at her,

she crawls across my hand

so tiny and so perfect,

no spots on her shiny back

I smile at her and make a wish

she flies away,

up to the sky

up to the day

* This poem is from my wonderful friend Sara. She gave it to me for Shiloh’s birthday in October and I’ve been reading it once a week since. Thank you Sara, for being there for me through these last 15 months. Your friendship has been an unyielding force (in a good way, of course!).

The Duality of my Heart

Here's another poem I wrote (Dec 1997) for my english class. I'm actually shocked at how emotionally deep I was back then!

 One woman, one heart.

A heart with two chambers.

Two chambers that contradict each other with a simple word.

The left always yearning for completion and

the right always begging for spontaneity.

Both chambers like two novices

contained in one heart.

Competing for recognition and

for popularity.

One strongly pensive in reason and

constant in decision

believing only in practicality.

While the other, filled with impulsive unrestraint and initiative.

Both deriving from the same heart,

but overwhelmed by different passions.

One chamber exclaims,

look deep inside,

to another’s aching heart.

The other shouts,

all that matters is displayed on the outside.

They beat as one,

yet in spirit,

are two different entities.

Together, striving to live in harmony;

to survive.

Knowing that they are unable to function without the other,

They settle.

They make this woman whole.

My Appleness

This is a poem I wrote in 1998 for my AP English Class and I just came across it the other day as I was cleaning out some old stuff from my mom's garage. It's called a Concrete Poem (it originally took on the shape of an apple) and the stylistic devices used were: imagery, connotation, metaphor and symbolism. It immediately reminded me of Shiloh, so I wanted to share it with everyone.

My darling dearest. 

You are the apple of my eye. The fruit within the fruit. 

Apple seeds. This cherry red combined with a multitude 
of seeds makes this apple whole. You complete me. As we sit
 in this brilliant bowl, our cores combine to share a single one. This core is everything 
but physical. This is no dull love; no ordinary love. We cannot admit absence; 
we are linked, for this love is one of great and complex definition. 

In spirit we are inseparable, core-mates, this love we share cannot be weakened or 
broken. There are no exceptions, no excuses. The everlasting reality 
sometimes creates the ability to frighten.

Forget all of the meaningless details.

JUST BE.

Ode to Bear

(Photo courtesy of Emily Hoke)

This is an ode to my puppy, Bear, who has been with us since shortly after Shiloh passed away (we got him in mid Nov 2008). I never once have mentioned him publicly, because I didn’t want people to think that I was trying to replace my daughter with a dog (by the way, Shiloh will never be replaced, not by any animal or another child). But I have decided it’s time to dedicate a post to Bear, who’s really been my and Andreas’s savior over the past year.

Bear, you claim to be a dog

But are you really?

There’s so much ‘person’ in your personality

At times you act so queerly

   

You’re a cheeky little bugger

Always doing something naughty

Chewing socks, chucking rocks

Looking at me haughtily
   
But all these things I can forgive
For you have been my savior

I yell at you and cry on you

Even when you’re on your best behavior 
   
I know you don’t understand any of this

But mommy and daddy are very sad

We’ve lost our only daughter

As well as Lou, your grandpa and my dad

   

But you have been my constant outlet

I don’t know what I’d do without you

For loneliness, sadness, hurt and love

And my mothering instincts too

    

So thank you for being you, Bear

Always the perfect fur baby

I owe you for my life thus far

About this there is no maybe

Cerveza

Right now, Andreas, my husband, is teaching an MBA course at a university in Barcelona. This is the first time since Shiloh was born that we've spent more than just a few days apart. It's been very hard being separated, but also good for our personal healing and growth. Here's a poem that Andreas wrote yesterday (during dinner!). He says "This is a poem going forward, not just holding onto the pain. A poem to the next baby, by acknowledging Shiloh as part of it. This is what I want for us. This is what we need to heal now. A different attitude. Accepting where the pain comes from now and working on it." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am sitting here with a Spanish beer and I try to dream a common theme, how would it be if you were here.

The dream is easy at the start, I would love you with all my heart. And I would do it all over again, paint the room and buy the playpen.

Yet, there is a point that is hard to cross. Your birthing process, such a loss. All the sudden it is only pain, will it be a loss again?

I had to learn there is no guarantee. You never know when you get stung by a bee. But the bee also brings pollen to flowers, and maybe you will soon be ours.

I feel I have the strength again, to love you here and Shiloh in heaven. Mommy, daddy, Shiloh and Bear are ready for you. Dream of ours, I know you will come true. 

Complex

This grief is complex

It’s multifaceted 

Because I not only mourn the death of my child

But the death of my old relationships

The death of my old self

Of my innocence

My lightheartedness 

My happiness

I would love to see into my future 

I desperately want another baby

-Yesterday-

And I’m terrified that it won’t happen

That I can’t get pregnant again

Why is it taking so long?

What am I doing wrong?

I want, I need, assurance

To know that I don’t have to mourn more

The death of my future

On top of mourning the death of my daughter’s

A bright future 

Pilfered before possessed

It’s so unjust

But I know

I know I can’t lose hope

If I do

There’s nothing left

Nothing left for me

Nothing left for me to live for

Note: I've fixed the Rss feed on Shiloh's memorial website. Hopefully everyone can easily subscribe to the website blog now to get blog updates. Happy Thanksgiving!

Dweller

I can’t get over things fast

I like to dwell

To brood over my emotions

My thoughts

I’m a dweller by nature

Mostly, I dwell on my sorrow

My pain

My anger

My occasional hatred

The injustice of it all

Sometimes I also dwell on good things

The way you smelled

Your puffy cheeks

Your piano fingers

The non-existent toenail on your little baby toe

Just like mine

I need to feel the pain

To feel the little joys

To dwell

It makes me feel

Well… human

In a sense, it makes me feel 

Mortal

A Year Without Shiloh (Oct 28th)- From Kellie

Photo courtesy of Kristen Papac

Another one of my incredible friends, Kellie- mama to Remi- wrote this poem for Shiloh's first birthday. What a strong, compassionate woman. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You are missed dearly

Every moment of each day

You have touched so many lives

In a very positive way


I feel as if I know you

Although we haven’t even met

Your parents describe you beautifully

So no one will forget

You picked the perfect Mom and Dad

To share your pure life with

They cherish you with all they have

You are their ultimate gift

They etched you on their bodies

A permanent reminder

To show how proud of you they are

Their precious heavenly daughter

It’s been a year without your presence

Each day knowing what is missing

I know that you’ll soon come back

Until then…we’ll all keep wishing

You may be a girl or a boy

We don’t know what you will choose

To finally complete your journey

With Rachel and Andreas who love you

Little Angel Shiloh

Will you please take Remi’s hand

To help guide each other home…

Back to us again

Your First Birthday

Photo courtesy of Kristen Papac

Today is your first birthday

And I’m feeling really numb

I can’t believe it’s been a year

Since the day that you have come

At 1.18 pm, you were brought into this world

A bundle of joy much anticipated

Your future planned way ahead of time

Because a whole 10 months we had waited

We were meant to have loads of good times

Together- talking, laughing, playing

Recording your monthly milestones

Your weight, height and things you were saying

I ache for these things every day

For my arms to be heavy with your weight

To change your diapers, to breastfeed you

And sleep in with you ‘til late

My intense joy and love for you

To everyone- I always declare

All things that encompass you

I feel compelled to share

Not a day goes by without you, Shiloh

Always on the forefront of my mind

I think, talk, write, and cry for you

Our lives are forever intertwined

My heavenly baby angel

For eternity you will be

As I see you in all earthly creatures

Insects, flowers, and even our lemon tree

So happy first birthday to you- love of my life

And just so you don’t get a stomachache

You and all the other angel babies  

Need to take it easy on your birthday cake!

-Love your mommy

Reminiscing

I am barely breathing

Lately, I can’t find the air

Since you’ve up and left me

My smiles have become so rare

Where am I, who am I?

Now that you’re no longer here

My identity and path in life

Have become so unclear

I miss being happy

I miss being so carefree

These are just a few things

That used to define me

I was never depressed

Or disheartened with life

I never felt much stress

Or have been in much strife

So much has changed

Since your heart failed to beat

Now life is dark and bitter

Instead of light and sweet

The tears come and go

With no further warning

I’d no idea it was so hard

To be in a state of mourning

Grief is hard work

Especially for my lost daughter

It knocks the breath out of me

And that’s a tall order

Never again will I feel whole

A chunk of my being- missing

Without you here with us

It’s just daddy and I- reminiscing