I Don't Know About Tomorrow....but I Know Who Holds My Hands

I don't know about tomorrow
I just live from day to day
And I don't borrow from its sunshine
for its skies may turn to grey
And I don't worry about my future
for I know what Jesus says
and today He walks beside me
for He knows what lies ahead...

Many things about tomorrow
I don't seem to understand
but I know, I know I know who holds tomorrow
and I know who holds who holds my hand

To believe in these words is to KNOW God exists and He has control of this inexplicable situation. Today was peaceful; amidst my immediate family and their tender love (missed my baby sister, other siblings and special people in my life), but the vacancy of my loss and the emptiness of uncertainty that I may not rejoice at motherhood flooded my eyes with tears as I drove home this evening.

Still I ask God why Zen was spared? For what reason could she not have enjoyed being fawned over this Christmas season by many who would have loved her simply because she was my child.

I know this...this "work" I'm doing on and for myself will perhaps make these moments more bearable. I just ask God for patience; supposedly I have a 'good constitution' and have endured what most have crumbled over. But my will to hold, love, share, teach, rear, mold, embrace, smile at, discipline, enlighten and dare I say love again my child will fortify my weak moments.

For my children, I hear them sing this to me this night...so sad, yet so uplifting...I love you all Jade, Rohan, Zen...and the others we didn't name. Daddy and I love you and all you would have become. I know he would have rejoiced at you births!

Don't cry for me,
don't shed a tear,
the time I shared with me will always be
and when I'm gone, please carry on
don't cry for me
No one is to blame,
my death was meant to be,
don't carry guilt or shame
the reasons why I came soon you'll see
so don't cry for me
don't shed a tear
the time I shared with you will always be
and when I'm gone, please carry on
Don't cry for me....


Good night, May God's grace touch your hearts and fill them with expectation, hope, will, determination and love...it's always darkest before the dawn. I will be there beside you and we will smile knowing we made it through this test to testify!

From my heart to yours...Merry Christmas...

Getting Out of My Own Way

I've been thinking of how "broken" I feel, almost at the point of disrepair (but I know better and that thought would shame people who encourage me); however, the 'little voice' inside of me refuses to say with confidence that "Yes, you ARE broken!" Instead, that voice and I debate the full range of feelings I experience daily: lethargy; morose; weepy; hopeless (even though I give good face when people ask my outlook on tomorrows); unmotivated; stuck; emotionally, mentally and even physically 'heavy', and relatively alone.

For fear of seeping into an irrevocable mien, I must combat these feelings and essentially get out of my own way. When I step aside, assess the roads I've travelled to arrive 'here', I recognize they warrant these feelings. Perhaps I'm not broken, instead, just in need of healing.

Healing - the restoration of damaged living tissue to normal function...sounds like a plan I'll sign up for! The alternative is saddening and debilitating...stay tuned.

Not living for approval

This may seem unrelated to 'Chasing Motherhood', but as I type, I realize it's not such a disjointed matter. The more we try to please, appease and seek someone's approval, the further away we are from realizing our true destiny. Throughout moments in my 41-year-old life, I've allowed (we must take onus for our mistakes, even at the hands of others) other people close and dear to me to impose their views, perceptions and ideals on me. In an attempt to always please others and be sublimely loyal, I've discounted my own feelings and beliefs. I often wonder where I would be in life had I listened to my heart and followed my footsteps when they pointed in the direction of my heart.

Today, I vow to remain true to me...even the most well-intentioned friend, lover, family member doesn't truly deserve to keep me in their 'box of ideals' when it goes against what I know to be true. We can agree to disagree without spoiling each other and destroying what we've built. And if that relationship has to suffer because we differ (on any matter that doesn't cost us our lives or harm us in any way) then perhaps it's worth investigating how well-intentioned said person is. Agree?

It saddens me to distance myself from those whose approval I have not garnered; but it's more saddening to realize that my friendship is not as important and cherished for anyone who is willing to discard it because we disagree.

Today is a new day and God's approval will open doors and a new season of growth and opportunity when I seek His approval, and follow my heart.

Be blessed...today and always.

The Test before Testimony

After bouts of wondering why motherhood has escaped me thus far, today I realize God's purpose, God's choice for my life has not yet been seen. He is putting me through certain 'tests' so that perhaps my 'testimony' will encourage, inspire, teach, mentor and motivate others. Again, I don't yet know my 'testimony', but I am closer to accepting that these trials are like my DNA and essentially make me who I am preparing to be. At age 41, I thought I would have 'arrived' at my metaphorical destination, but we all travel at varying speeds and through different paths.

I'm reading "Beyond Grief: A Guide for Recovering From the Death of A Loved One" by Carol Staudacher. I encourage you to read it as well and allow it to help you understand that what you're feeling is real, understandable, and allowed.

Let your tests become your testimony...the other side can only be better!

Enough is Enough

So, in one 'normal' work day of 11 hours, two unrelated people bring up my last pregnancy. One, genuinely asked the well-being of either my son or daughter...he had seen me with my growing belly before I left work for complete bed rest at four month. So, he only thought that I would naturally have returned to work around this time (October, some three months after giving birth). When I told him of Zen's fate, he was speechless. Earlier in the year, he and his colleague, constituents whom our office assists, were overjoyed at my pregnancy. There I was, left to comfort him while he has shaken me out of my focused disposition on today's workload.

Hours later, while driving home I decided to return a family friend's (like an aunt) call...20 minutes into our chat she tells me of a couple's (she's Guyanese like me, he's Nigerian like Zen's dad) challenging, but miracle birth after having lost twins. At first, I felt the immediate pang of empathy when I heard of their loss, but instantly delighted when God blessed them with their son. As the story went on, I began to withdraw mentally. I no longer wanted to hear about how well their now 2-year-old boy was thriving. Of course, I was pleased for them. But I had already expressed that joy and now, I felt a tinge of jealousy and began wondering why I couldn't have been so blessed. Zen was perfect...she, too, should have been a 'miracle' left to thrive against the odds. She, too, should have been in an incubator for months so that we could enjoy her progress.

I really wanted to lash out and say 'I've had enough listening to this story; I no longer care about this and think your well-intentioned story of hope and miracle is now bothersome and burdensome. Please be quiet and say good night.' Instead, I listened and allowed myself to be more uncomfortable...

Days like today aren't uncommon. Almost daily someone asks about my pregnancy and the whereabouts of my baby. Most times I handle it with grace; other times, I am frozen and instantly tear.

All the time I wonder why Zen had to be spared.

Mute Off

So, it's been five months since my Zen, our Zen, was returned to God's care. And, at that instance, I truly lost the desire to speak. My words, all my pleading with doctors, nurses, surgeons, social workers and other maternal / fetal specialists were seemingly in vain. The pleasure of sharing her impending birth with her daddy, her grandmom, her aunts / uncles, cousins and my friends no longer had an environment to thrive. What could I have possibly said that wasn't blatantly evident? She was gone and so were my words.

I sought "comfort" in being able to pen my thoughts and feelings; emailing my support circle was cathartic (just as blogging is now!). My emails elicited tears and drew readers closer to our devastating loss...but this too was short-lived. And when I thought speaking to those closest to me wouldn't be an obstacle, I then knew I had to endure the process of having lost my 'voice' and asking and expecting everyone to understand.

Well, I'm making the choice to deactivate my 'mute' button! I owe it to those who love me to hear from me, to ensure that I'm alive and well, and that I am hurting as well. It's natural; it's expected; it's understood.

What I am grateful for is the ability to enable my 'mute' button when I needed to wallow and revel in my silence. During this time my other senses were heightened.

Now, the Mute is off...I look forward to speaking with you soon!

The Accidental Mother

Sometimes, you're asked to be involved in a young person's life, either for a short time, fixed duration or an indefinite period of time. Along the way, because of your innate maternal instincts, you accept the child as your own, and become their 'accidental mother'.

I'm in such a position...I find myself waxing and waning between acting as a 19-year-old's mother, sister and confidante. My protective maternal instincts just exposed themselves and while I've witnessed them before (I have many younger siblings), I'm surprised how strong they are for someone who is not mine. Makes me wonder if I could possibly be an adoptive mother...would I love protect my young even if he/she didn't enter my birth canal? I don't doubt it...

And I don't think there is such a thing as an accidental mother...

Some have heads, but have no cap...while others have caps but have no heads....

If I knew how to write in Yoruba, a Nigerian language, I could better explain the above proverb. Essentially, at it relates to the issue of pregnancy and the ability to be a parent, it means that someone may have the ability to bear a child, but may not be capable to caring for him/her; while another can have all the heart to be a parent, but not be able to conceive or carry to term.

Perhaps I've been stubborn, proud and a bit narrow-minded. Or, perhaps I just want my own flesh and blood! No harm, right? But today something struck me...what is really most important to me? The actual joy of motherhood, or conquering the road to that Olympic feat? Lord knows I've been through enough medical 'boot camp', but still no reward.

There's no harm in researching adoption...I hope a better understanding of the process and some real faith in God will allay my fears. I know that this life is not perfect; we are all living examples of imperfection. It's worth the research...

Still chasing motherhood...

Zen Chronicles

Dearest family and friends,

Our darling Zen Ose (pronounced like Jose, without the "J") Daly-Awozele transitioned today, April 30, 2010, at approximately 2:00 p.m.

I named her Zen for her peaceful ability to create her own utopia in utero despite my many gestational ailments etc; Lucky named her Ose, a Nigerian Edo name meaning Angel. (The Edo are a small Nigerian tribe known for being artisans, versus the more widely known Yoruba, Igbo, Hausa and Fulani tribes.) She bears both of our last names...Daly-Awozele (Ah-wo-Zell-eh).

After almost six months of relishing being pregnant albeit some known, and other spontaneous challenges, bonding with Zen's spirited self, and anticipating her arrival with all of you, and especially Lucky, Mommy, my siblings, and cousins near and far, the attached photos of her precious hand and feet prints are what I now carry.

I was admitted immediately following my weekly doctor's visit at 2:30 p.m. Thursday, after what had become a now standard of my visits in that the doctor would detect some abnormality or surprise occurrence from just the week prior. After having been on moderate bedrest for the last month, and strict/complete bedrest for the past week (which would have lasted until my late summer delivery), my maternal/fetal specialist, Dr. Bernasko, in whose confident, encouraging, and attentive care we entrusted with this high-risk pregnancy, detected a perforation in my cervix although the cerclage remained secured. He pointedly advised me and Mommy that "things were not good", and that we would have to prepare to end the pregnancy. Clearly he was mistaken for I had just sent my sister Nikki a quick text upon stepping outside our parent's home and savouring the fresh air, the brightness of our lawn and its budding flowers and listening to Mommy hasten me to not stand too long so we could drive to our appointment! Dr. Bernasko immediately removed the second of two cerclages he had done during this pregnancy (the first was done March 25th as a preventative measure since we had foreknowledge of my weak cervix; the second emergent one was done April 13th immediately following episodes of bleeding and contractions). Still, we all remained hopeful and I knew being obedient to my full bed rest orders would bring Zen to us.

So after trying to process this information and being completely dazed and floored, Mommy summoned all of her maternal might to console, assure and embrace me. Once admitted and further examined, my natural labour process spontaneously began around 11:30 p.m. Dr. Bernasko began me on a regimen of anti-biotics to stave off infection as the sac containing Zen's fluids had found the weakest part of my cervix, an old scar tissue from a previous cerclage in 2006, and begin seeping through there and not my actual cervical canal. (This weakened point was on the side of my cervix and, as I later found out, was inappropriately designed to sustain the passage of Zen.)

My overactive mind, constant vital checks by nurses and attending physicians whom I had met during recent hospital visits also came to check on me, and my need to write my feelings in form of an email to most of you, kept me awake throughout the night. Labour continued, on and off until surgery today at 1:00 p.m.

Upon learning of the assumed and medically-preferred procedure (a Dilation and Evacuation) to terminate our pregnancy, Lucky and I agreed our baby didn't deserve that kind of ending; she still had a lot of life and deserved any plausible, phathomable chance of survival.

Despite my debating and pleading with Dr. Bernasko when he arrived Friday morning, for us to defeat nature's odds (remember, odds and miracles DO happen when given the chance), he implored me/us (even drawing diagrams for our collective understanding...me, Mommy and Lucky) that my life would (not could) be at risk had I actually attempted to deliver Zen naturally. That weakened part of my cervix I alluded to earlier would invariably rupture, causing irreparable damage to my entire cervix and possibly uterus, I would bleed and require a transfusion, or worse, my blood stream would be infected throughout. (A repeat of my septic pregnancy loss on April 12, 2006, with our son, Rohan Ajani Daly-Awozele; Ajani means "the victor"). For these reasons, Dr. Bernasko could not proceed with this foreknowledge. Hence, we were left with the option of removing her and taking the known and expected risk of baby Zen to not remain intact afterwards. This thought brings me to an inconsolable mental space and it's only through writing and sharing with you that perhaps I can breathe and remain somewhat composed.

Naturally, as you all know about me by now, there are very few other accomplishments in this life that I believe compare to the joy and art of motherhood. I have long dreamed of putting into practice some of the lessons about unconditional love, teaching with an understanding heart, patience and commitment from not only my own amazing mother, but my sister Sala, and recently, my dear college roommate and new mother, Michelle. Also, I've romanticized being able to repeat Merryl Streep's words in which she co-stars with the movie's director Clint Eastwood in "The Bridges of Madison County"...."...this kind of certainty only comes in life but once." That's how I see the love and joy and art of motherhood. (Just days ago, Mommy and I stayed awake into the early morning hours watching this and I reminisced about when I first watched it with my dearest friend Denny...if you know the movie, you'll also know that uber-emotional Sonia sobbed throughout, prompting Denny to pelt a box of Kleenex at me and ask "Gyal, unna easy...yuh does cry like dis fuh true? Is a movie!!! Lawd Jesus, wipe yuh eye!" :-). - I may have embellished her words slightly, just slightly. But it was with this viewing I truly embraced Merryl's words as a mother and not vis-a-vis the eros love between man and woman.

Well, despite my attempts to deliver Zen naturally, we mentally prepared for surgery. Most important for Mommy and Lucky was now my health at the proposed risk. Lucky has said having a motherless child is counterproductive to nature. In my cloud of sadness I've always disagreed; I've maintained at least she would have him and all of you...the village that would care for her and keep my memory alive and well. But, that is a fight I haven't won and the yearning to try again defeats me in that battle.

So, prior to surgery, we three remained eerily quiet (sans my moans of discomfort), awaiting the cervix-widening effects that were implanted, and after having seen Zen's last lively images on ultrasound, before I walked to the procedure room. We were anesthetized and the surgery was completed shortly thereafter with no known complications to me. However, our darling, despite my pleas to the surgeon to perform with her most valiant effort to keep Zen intact, didn't meet that fate.

I need to wrap my head around the reality Zen's body no longer dwells in me, and that I, Lucky and Mommy were unable to set our eyes on her natural flesh. This was a luxury I've had twice before with Jade Skyler in 2004 and Rohan in 2006. In case you're wondering why I would have wanted to see Zen's ultrasound moments before surgery...simple: to implore to the medical team to possibly rethink their sole solution as they would witness her buoyant, lively little body (13 ozs); plus it was confirmation that I had given her a name befitting her personality. In her final hour, she moved about peacefully, heartbeat still very visible and stretching her limbs as always.

Well, the healing begins...and I'm thankful for all of your countless prayers, calls, texts and emails of support, encouragement and love.

I'm begging you all to ask God to grant me that level of understanding. For the moment, my thoughts are scattered and I wish not to break into tears while talking...when one cries they fail to hear the messages of the universe-favourable or not. This I learned from Lucky and his mother last night as they both prayed and laid hands on my belly, asking me to stop crying and listen to her...she will speak to me. (The eternal optimist in me WANTS to believe baby Zen has asked me not to worry; she didn't suffer, she was lulled to sleep as I was before surgery, so she felt no pain. I'm hoping that part of Sonia doesn't disappear...)

Forgive my lengthy email, and thank you for indulging me. I am unable to sleep. Please know that I write to you because you each mean so very much to me...in different, significant, and special ways.

Like I have written to some of you yesterday, where there is great love, there is great sorrow. I beg you all to relish all of your great loves, what or whomever they may be...you will undoubtedly have to rely on those memories to sustain the great sorrows.

I am yours...Lovingly,

Sons

P.S. - Thank you for allowing me to share without judgment also...my doctor believes a radical/major surgery in future would allow me to birth a live baby, using an abdominal (versus cervical) cerclage...for now, the thought is buried in the recesses of my mind.

Written from Beth Israel Medical Center, April 30, 2010

Testing my ability to blog on-the-go! ;-)

Invictus - William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Veering Off the Road More Traveled

So, I'm beginning to unearth the feelings of shame, loss, ineptitude and devastating sorrow for my little angels who are no longer here.  I wonder how people move on from this kind of repeated loss, but through the years, I've met a select few women who have shared their tales of woe and despair, and have offered hopeful accounts of motherhood. 

I feel blessed to have the outlet of written words; the most recent loss of our daughter stripped the desire to really talk to anyone (other than her Dad) about my feelings.  I still don't fully believe anyone truly understands how much hope I had that Zen would make it.  But, she met the same fate as her brother Rohan and others whom we didn't name.  (Zen and Rohan were six months in gestational age and had full personalities that made them appear older than their actual ages.  It's now been four months since Zen has been gone and I am only now learning to smile again.  Mostly because I want more than anything to free myself of SIX years of sadness.  (2004 was the first of the stream of losses.)  It's time to regain the true glimmer in my eyes and rejoice at all I have, and not lament what escapes me. 

Today, I want to veer off this path of "loss"...my life has to have more balance and with that ought to come more joy.

Reading "Invictus" - poem by William Ernest Henley...until....

Chasing Motherhood - Prelude

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. That's the sound of motherhood seemingly eluding me each day. God blessed me several times to conceive my babies, but oddly, without notice, either gently took them back or snatched them away violently from my womb when He wanted.


Now, more than ever, to keep the bond I have with their Daddy I want my babies back! But I know, like Bob Marley sang in "I Know",

'...Many a time I sit and wonder why
This race so - so very hard to run,
Then I say to my soul: take courage,
Battle to be won,
Like a ship that's tossed and driven,
Battered by the angry sea, yea-eah!
Say the tide of time was raging;
Don't let the fury fall on me, no, no!
(I) 'Cause I know (know) -know:
Jah will be waiting there...'

Today is a new day, of which I will try not to burden with sadness from yesterday, or problems I foresee in tomorrow. Blessed am I to have touched my babies, share them with people who love me and were excited for their arrival...and the opportunity to draw closer the man whom created them with me.

Chasing motherhood no more...it will come when it's ready.