It has been three and a half years since I lost my son, and nearly four years since I lost his twin. That’s a strange and heartbreaking sentence to write. This loss is forever woven into my story, into the very fabric that makes up who I am. I carry the memory of those nine months and the range of emotions brought forth by that pregnancy – from disbelief to elation to total devastation. During that time and the years that have followed, writing has been a therapeutic outlet for my grief. Being able to share what I have been through and in turn, hear from others who have suffered their own losses, offered a light for me in what felt like a very dark time.

As I close down my former Ottawa blog and begin this new blog here in Vancouver, I didn’t want to lose what I had written about my pregnancy loss and my babies. So I have copied over the blog posts that were originally included on my Embracing Ottawa blog through the years of 2017-2018. I hope if they have a permanent home on this site, it will help the memory of my son Lachlan live on, and perhaps, in turn help someone else who is looking for their own light in the darkness.

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Sharing My Heartbreak: Talking About Miscarriage

*This blog post was originally published in August 2017.

I admittedly haven’t been as active on my blog this summer as I would like to be. And the truth is, the subject of this post is not what I started this blog for. My blog is generally a place where I share my favourite spots in the city to visit with the kids. But, I feel compelled to write this – as off topic for my blog as it may be – because I hope it will help start healing this hole that has formed in my heart.

Part of why I haven’t been writing as much over the past few months is because I have been feeling so tired and nauseous. I had been making my way through a tough first trimester of pregnancy. This first trimester was way worse than I ever felt during my pregnancies with either my son or my daughter. An ultrasound at 14 weeks revealed why I had been feeling the effects of pregnancy far more pronounced this time – I was pregnant with twins!

Although the idea of going from two kids to four kids was totally overwhelming, my husband and I were thrilled with the news. More babies to love! And, man, do you love those babies. The minute you know you are carrying one, or two in my case, you are filled with such love for what they are and everything you hope they will grow to be.

Feeling like we were out of the first trimester woods at 14 weeks, and the risk of miscarriage was minimal, we called friends and family and shared our news. We told our other two kids and just generally found it difficult to keep our exciting news to ourselves.

But, just five days after learning I was pregnant with twins I woke up in the middle of the night to bleeding and cramping. Petrified, I lay still through the night until we went to emergency in the morning. The bleeding had stopped on its own and I prayed that all would be well. Tests by the doctor and a subsequent ultrasound reassured me that both babies were ok and both still had a strong heartbeat. I had suffered a hemorrhage but it seemed like all would be well. One of the babies was very low lying, with a slight placenta previa, and I would have to be careful with that, but I felt like the worst was now over.

The next two weeks were spent with family out in Vancouver and again I spread the news I was having twins with more  loved ones.

When I returned to Ottawa I was scheduled to have a follow up ultrasound, exactly two weeks from the bleeding. I had no worries that anything was wrong. In fact just hours before I did a cute photo shoot with both of my other kids, and I held a chalkboard in front of my slightly growing belly that read ” #3 & #4″, in anticipation of doing an official “twins announcement”. After that,  I headed off to what I thought was going to be another routine ultrasound. My husband and I waited there smiling as the ultrasound tech brought up the photo of our babies. She read off the heartbeat of Twin B, and then she looked at me and said, “I’m so, so sorry. I have to go and get the doctor.” That’s the moment my heart hit the floor. The doctor on hand returned and explained there was no heartbeat for Twin A. The hemorrhage caused the placenta to detach and sometime, in the days following the bleed, when I went about visiting my family and friends thinking everything was just fine…my baby’s heart stopped beating and I had suffered a miscarriage.

Since then the tears have barely stopped flowing. It still doesn’t really feel real. The high risk ultrasound team called today to confirm a follow up appointment and I actually thought they might be calling me to explain they made a mistake, and everything was fine, no miscarriage after all. But no, Twin A is gone. Twin B is looking strong, and I pray they will make to the end of this pregnancy, when I can hold them in my arms. The doctor explained that Twin A will remain inside me and gradually break down, and what is left of that baby will eventually be delivered along with Twin B. Right now it is easy for me to close my eyes and imagine that both babies are still in my belly, doing just fine and trading kicks and jabs with one another.

But, that isn’t real and the reality of my miscarriage overwhelms me with sadness. I am sad for my lost baby, and for the future that I had already imagined for them. I am sad for Lucas and Rowan who have to try and understand that one of their promised future siblings is no more. I am sad for me and my husband Leo, who had whole heartedly embraced the loving chaos that twin babies would add to our family. And I am so sad for my baby who remains growing inside me – that they will never know the twin they were meant to walk through life with.

I am trying my best to feel all the feelings that wash over me and work through this dark time. I need to be strong for the baby who is still counting on me, and my two kids who keep checking on me to “make sure mom is feeling better.” But it is hard to make sense of the joy that can fill your life so quickly, only to be ripped from you just moments later.

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How Do You Prepare Yourself for the Loss of a Baby?

*This blog post was originally written and posted in November 2017.

“Some things in life cannot be fixed, they can only be carried.” I recently read this quote in the book Option B, by Sheryl Sandberg. It is something that has stuck with me during what I can only describe as the toughest 7 months of my life. Back in August I wrote a post about our heartbreaking miscarriage. I had been expecting twins when I found out that one of them had passed away at 16 weeks. At the time I thought that miscarriage would be the hardest thing my husband and I would have to face, but little did I know it was only the beginning.

Although I was initially reassured everything should continue as a normal pregnancy and birth for the remaining twin, that would not be the case. With every ultrasound and test, came more bad news. First it was a large blood clot, which meant I would have to restrict all of my activity, but then subsequent ultrasounds showed signs that something was very wrong with the remaining twin. Termination was an option provided to me but at more than 20 weeks along, with a very active, kicking baby in my belly, I just couldn’t bring myself to consider it. For the past three months I have had numerous tests and echocardiograms both here in Ottawa and at Sick Kids Hospital in Toronto, only to have the outlook come back more and more grim.

As it stands now, I am 31 weeks pregnant and faced with the reality that I will deliver this baby only to have to say goodbye to them. We don’t know how much time, if any at all we will have with our baby. It could be minutes, hours or days, but our baby’s heart has not formed as it should, and in the end it will not be strong enough. We will lose our baby boy. It is hard for me to wrap my head around how only months ago I thought I would be bringing home two healthy babies, where now we know there won’t be any baby coming home with us.

Everything we are going through so often feels surreal. While inside, my baby boy is still growing and kicking me day and night. How could something be so wrong with him when he feels so strong? With every 3-D ultrasound I see a familiar face looking back at me – a mirror image of our two other children, Lucas and Rowan, reflected again in this new baby.

Yet, everyday I am reminded that the worst of our grief is yet to come. I try to smile when the waitress looks at my (huge) belly and says “congratulations”. I let the little kids at Lucas’ school feel my belly because they know there is a baby inside. The teachers at his school tell me I will have to bring the baby in when he arrives, but of course now I know that will never happen.

We haven’t yet told our kids. How does one prepare a four year old and a two year old for losing a baby brother? Lucas, especially is so sensitive and likes to frequently talk about plans for his new sibling. I know kids are resilient but I still worry about how hard this will be on them.

We have met with the palliative care team at Roger Neilson House here in Ottawa, and we are getting a better picture of what will happen next. The plan is to induce labour right after Christmas. I am facing a very long and hard next seven weeks of carrying this baby. I am so sad, as well as physically sore and uncomfortable. I just want the pregnancy part to be done. But, at the same time, our baby is safe while he is inside me. I keep him alive despite a failing heart, so how can I wish him out of me when that will only bring more pain?

I’m scared for everything that is still to come. I am scared to go through with delivery without the happy promise of a baby to make it all worth it. I am scared to have my milk come in, but no baby to nurse. I am so scared to have to bury a child.

I have always been a very positive person, and I worry that this experience will change me. I don’t want to be scared and sad. After two healthy pregnancies and babies, I now know what it is like to go into every ultrasound holding my breath and frightened for what it might reveal. I hope something good can come from all of this pain.  Perhaps it will make me a stronger person and mother, and this experience has certainly given me more empathy and understanding into some of the hardship that many women face.

Right now I am focused on trying to stay strong for my other two kids. Instead of worrying about a sad Christmas season, I am going to try and face this upcoming holiday with joy in my heart because this will be the only Christmas we will all spend together (even if our baby boy is still in my belly). When I read my kids Christmas stories, I will be reading to all three of them, and trying to cherish the limited time we have left with this baby.

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Loving and Losing Lachlan

*This blog post was originally written and posted in December 2017.

Even when you know it’s coming, even when you think you’re as prepared as you’re ever going to be…nothing can really prepare you for losing your baby.

I have documented the loss and grief that has accompanied my latest pregnancy in previous blog posts. First, it was losing a twin at 16 weeks. Then, it was learning a devastating diagnosis about our remaining twin. But, over the past few months my husband and I had tried to come to a (somewhat) accepting state of mind about what was happening – carrying a baby who was only expected to live for a short time. He was a boy, and we would name him Lachlan John Carroll.

We had done our best to prepare our two kids, Lucas and Rowan, for what was expected to happen to their baby brother. Lachlan’s heart would stop functioning at some point after birth.  Doctors told us we should expect to get at least one day with him, but maybe more. After delivery our family would all go over to Roger Neilson House – a fabulous palliative care home for children here in Ottawa. In the weeks leading up to Lachlan’s birth we received such wonderful support and counselling from the Roger Neilson House staff. I was confident we would have a loving place to gather as a family and make memories in the short time we had.

We tried to get the kids to treat Lachlan’s birth like a celebration. We planned to get him a birthday cake. Lucas chose some special outfits for him to wear, and matching stuffy elephants for each child to have. I had even ordered matching toques with adorable pom poms for them to wear together. It made our grief a little less as we focused on the positives.

Little did I know 2017 had one last heartbreaking curveball for us to deal with.

My induction was scheduled to take place on the afternoon of December 28th. As I packed my bag for the hospital and got ready to leave around midday, I realized in all the hustle and bustle that I had not felt Lachlan kick since the night before. Lachlan was a very active baby throughout pregnancy, so this was unusual and alarming. But I thought, “life couldn’t really be that cruel, right?”

However, when we were admitted to the hospital the doctor confirmed that as of that morning, Lachlan had died. I would now be delivering him stillborn.

We would never get to see his eyes open, or hear his little voice. I just wanted one day with him. That was how low my expectations had sunk, and even that was being taken away from us.

After a long night of induction labour, Lachlan was born on the morning of December 29th. He weighed 8 lbs 11 oz, with a lot of hair, a button nose, and a total family resemblance to Lucas and Rowan.

Although we no longer qualified to go over to Roger Neilson House, the wonderful staff didn’t forget about us and they came over to the hospital to visit. Our counsellor Carol held Lachlan and fawned over him, just as one would any newborn baby. A photographer came and respectfully took these wonderful photos, which I will always cherish. And two other lovely staff came to make hand and foot casts of Lachlan, and hand casts of Lucas and Rowan as well.

Later that morning Lucas and Rowan were brought to the hospital by my parents. Leo had to break the difficult news to them out in the hallway – that their baby brother was already gone. As sad as it all was, it was still so lovely to see both of my children hold their baby brother.

Lucas struggled at times with the visit, and hesitated to hold Lachlan at first. But he came around, and I’m so happy he will have these short memories to hold on to. He especially liked the idea of giving Lachlan a “haircut”, so we would always have a lock of his hair.

n the end, we got to spend 8 hours with our baby boy. He was cuddled, washed, sung to and loved. As the sun was setting, Leo and I knew the time had come to say goodbye. I can honestly say I made it through most of that day without crying. But, having to say a final goodbye and hand Lachlan over to the nurse, truly shattered my heart and the tears wouldn’t stop coming.

It has been hard to come to terms with the final disappointment of losing Lachlan on the very morning we were supposed to meet him. It all seems so unfair. But I have tried to think about it differently. I like to think that he was holding on that long for us. Lachlan held on through Christmas, so we could have a happy holiday all together. He held on until my parents flew in from Vancouver, just the day before, so that his big brother and big sister would have someone to take care of them and comfort them.

And, perhaps, in some way, Lachlan just knew it would be too hard for his mom and dad to watch his final breaths. Maybe he knew that it would be too difficult to just watch him slip away without trying to use extreme measures to keep him around for longer.

One week has now passed since Lachlan’s birth and death. The hardest week of my life. But, even through the grief it is  amazing the strength you can find inside yourself. And, it is overwhelming how friends and family hold you up and keep you going in your time of need.

Leo and I are finding our way. What we do know is that it helps to hear Lachlan’s name. We love to talk about him and share his photo. We don’t want to push our grief away and try to forget. So, please don’t be afraid to ask about him, or ask about us. The more we can talk about him and remember him, the easier it is to smile through the memories. Lachlan is as much our child as Lucas and Rowan. We believe he is our angel looking down on us, along with his twin who we lost months before.

Until we meet again sweet boy. Lachlan, we love you.