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!
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
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...
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...
Monday, September 6, 2010
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...
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...
Sunday, September 5, 2010
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
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
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
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....
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.
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.
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