Infant Loss Memorial Day 2024: A Decade of Remembering our Baby

There are some special clubs you never want to join, no matter how amazing the members are, no matter what mysteries you will learn about, or how much you’ll grow. There are some ways that one wants to be stretched. 

There are elite clubs whose admission fee is far too high, whose membership demands more than an arm and a leg, more than all your stored-up savings, more than all your saved-up strength. There are some which require having your very heart ripped open and then sewn back together to make it bigger. 

There are some clubs that will change you more than you ever thought possible—that will transform you into an instrument of healing for others. You will be able to reach people more deeply than ever before, for by your wounds they shall be healed. 

These clubs are full of the most courageous, generous people you’ve ever met, who have become more than friends, who are now your sisters, who are family. And yet, like most families, you were born into it by the shedding of blood. 

The wisdom gained by suffering is so hard-won. 

Oh, would that I were foolish and innocent again! That the world was simple and safe, and heartbreak was but a thing in songs, and not present in the echos of my own heartbeat.  

But you cannot return to life before, just as a snake can’t crawl back into its old skin. Your heart has been carved by caverns of sorrow—it will not return to its former shape.  This is you now—forever transformed by losing a child. Their very DNA is forever etched into your bloodstream, their silent existence is always in your living breath. You would not have it otherwise—the numbness of forgetting your child would be worse than feeling the pain of a love that never stops reaching for your little lost one. 

You see them in the outline of a fallen leaf, in the delicate curve of a snowdrop, in the twinkle of stars between cherry blossoms on a spring night, in the misty face of the harvest moon, distant and ethereal, yet bathing the whole world in its light. 

It’s been ten years since my little darling died in labour and I joined the sisterhood of bereaved mothers. 

We have no special uniforms or club member pins, come from all social classes and backgrounds and generally walk through the crowds unnoticed. But perhaps you’ll see those extra wrinkles around our eyes because we have laughed and cried so deeply.

Perhaps you’ve felt the sincere warmth of our hugs after you’ve shared your worries with us, and the roaring power of our prayers when you were in labour. Because we know. We know. And we love you enough to wish that you will never join us.

There are enough of us already, and once a member, always a member. No need for yearly dues; your heart, once broken, is payment enough. 

Lava Burns by Starlight

It’s unusually cold tonight;

the wind has blown away the clouds

to reveal a crisp star-scape

glittering down on a thin layer of snow.

❄️

The cedars on the back yard

wave and dance to the tune

of our wooden wind-chimes

as they point up at the sky.

🌲

Inside, I cradle our sleeping baby—

her fever burns so hot,

I dream of a woman

who keeps falling into fire.

🔥

She carries molten lava

in a metal box, glowing golden-red,

and she keeps falling into the magma

yet somehow staying alive.

🔥

I dream this terrible dream,

until it wakes me up in a sweat

with only the burning baby

beside me in bed, but not you.

🛏

You are working down in California,

where the weather’s simply lukewarm—

no wind-whipped snow

making the ground clench it’s jaws.

🌊

Instead, wind whips the waves

along the sand-covered beach;

I wonder if the palm trees

outside your hotel are dancing.

🌴

My Unexpected Bucket List, 2023

Happy New Year, everyone! Perhaps many people are planning their fantastic bucket lists for 2024, but I’m not quite there yet. Let me first share some of the crazy little adventures I had in 2023, including various things I never planned to check off my to-do list!

1. Fishing a school of fishy crackers out of the toilet when the toddler dumped them there, or rather, to be more accurate, flushing them!

2. Getting pulled over by the police in a cab when rushing my daughter from the orthodontist back to Highschool, on the way to my younger children’s elementary school Christmas pageant. My poor cabbie looked like Santa with a giant beard, and I, sitting there all flushed with a “lunch on the go” Freshslice pizza box on my lap, begged the officer to take pity on him, as I had been telling him about my mad-dash day and probably distracting him from slowing down in the school zone…thank goodness he got off with just a warning! I missed my 5 year old singing “Winter Time is Here” but caught the other 3 kids’ acts…then went to the evening show to see it all again, on time this time. Phew!

3. Playing the part of a giant sassy crow in a Christmas play called “Suki’s Reindeer Wish” with my local literary arts guild.

4. Getting a Christmas poem published in an anthology of Christmas poetry called Harmonic Verse by Local Gems Press. https://www.localgemspoetrypress.com/harmonic-verse-preorders.html

5. Dressing as a pirate and narrating spooky stories for a Halloween show called “Killer Verse” with the same wild and wacky arts crew…

…and discovering that my toddler had painted the table with Nutella while I was at dress rehearsal. He later repeated said visual art performance with yogurt.

6. Drinking white wine while drinking in the beauty of my dear friend Jude Neale’s (https://judeneale.ca/) poetry at her book launch for her gorgeous new book of poetry, accompanied by the paintings of Nicholas Jennings, called Water Forgets Its Own Name.

7. Being given a surprise trip to Saskatoon by my husband, to spend 5 days with my soaking in life with my bestie, and having amazing Mexican food downtown there.

Well, that’s enough adventures for one night! I hope you all survived the madness of December, had a very Merry Christmas, and are enjoying some relaxing vacation time before the business of school starts up again. Happy New Year!

Sunset Caress

Amidst the usual evening business,

there was a moment of golden light,

when all the chaos of messy meals—

my baby climbing out of her high chair,

little chubby limbs besmeared with mango

and requiring yet another bath,

as the phone rang and the water boiled,

and the seven-year-old pontificated

on the merits of trampolines

vs slip and slides for summer safety—

all this ceased to grab my attention,

which was caught by the light of a far-off star,

speeding across millions of miles of space

to gaze at me on my porch this evening,

a glowing orange ball

peeking through the dark fir trees.

I paused to gaze back.

My daughter sped around the porch

on her running bike,

her tongue running fast as her feet

to describe her tricks in real time

—but I had stepped out,

and was steeped in golden light—

“I am here, all along; I am here,”

spoke the universe calmly,

all its diverse particles coming together

to deliver me this caress of beauty

from the halls of eternity.

A Small Zoo (revisited)

Here is my first ever blog post, shared with you again after about eight years! I recently used it for a writing assignment about animals, even though it was kind of cheating…this zoo is full of animal-like creatures…but none is actually furry or feathered!

Hope you enjoy it (again, for the handful of you who have been with my in Crazy Land from the beginning)!

Living in a house with five young children is much like running a small zoo, full of exotic birds and monkeys who are liable to climb everything, and constantly build themselves habitats all over that seldom-seen thing called “floor.”

The clever chimpanzees create modern art pieces with supplies like to finger-paint and spaghetti sauce—any surface is a suitable canvas, from walls to couch covers. Ever innovative, they can turn toilet paper and bath water into paper-mâché tile art. Don’t be surprised to find a small one bathing in the bathroom sink, making steam art on the mirror, or having a healthy snack of toddler toothpaste. 

There is always something fun to do, such as scatter puzzle pieces around the confines like wood chips, or paint boxes with the smallest monkey’s diaper cream.

All these endeavors make the animals extremely hungry, so there are frequent feeding frenzies. The feeding area is swarmed with little birds chirping “Me! Me! Me!” and there is no silence until all the feeding dishes are filled with animal crackers and other suitable snacks. 

If the offering is deemed worthy, the birdsong “More! More,” will be heard; however, if the animals are unsatisfied with their rations, they will resort to scowls, whines, and barking, sometimes followed by the tipping over of said feeding dishes, or worse: the use of a dish as a small missile, hopefully in the direction of the floor rather than the zookeeper’s head. The baby hippo often gets so messy that it is placed immediately in the wading pool, where it gets a thorough scrub.

After their meal, the animals usually head off to the recreation area to engage in elaborate displays of beauty, strength and agility, including leaping off the furniture while adorned in princess feathers, or circling about repeatedly in brightly patterned skins that would camouflage them in a tropical coral bed. Like chameleons on hyper-speed, they are liable to change their skins every five minutes, scattering colorful heaps about the confines.

We won’t go into a discussion of the animals’ bathroom habits, for their lack of refinement in areas of toilet training, their parading about without proper rear covers, and their enjoyment in leaving surprise droppings and puddles for the zookeeper would be thoroughly reprehensible if they were not such small animals.

It is with great relief that the zookeeper puts them all in their cages for the night, with the blissful thought that at least for several hours, no little creatures will be burrowing about the living room in blanket tunnels, or scattering paw covers outside until the zoo’s garden becomes an Easter egg hunt for missing shoes. 

How peaceful and sweet the fuzzy beasts seem, with their limbs flung out in the abandon of sleep, and their little purrs and dreamy sighs…

You might think that the evening would bring peace and quiet to the zoo and rest to the zookeeper, but don’t forget one important thing: night watch; after all, many animals are nocturnal!

Family Day Fail, or “I’d rather eat noodles”

The other day we went to the park for Family Day; it was damp and chilly. The sun hid behind a massive grey cloud, despite the deceptive blue sky. Baby was not impressed.

“What are we doing out here?”
“Is this supposed to be fun?”

Eventually we gave up trying to stay warm enough and went home for tea. After a big nap in his cosy blanket in the stroller, our little one felt much better, and ate his noodle soup with gusto.

“I’d rather be eating noodles.”
“Good to the last drop.”

Our New Pregnancy Book: A Gift From Moms To Moms

Beginner’s Guide to Growing Baby

Happy Belated Mother’s Day everyone! I hope you all had good days…whether you have one child or ten, you deserve wonderful things! It’s a big, full-time job nurturing life.

My mom blogger buddy Bonnie Way and I have written a book on pregnancy, birthing and early days with a newborn and are offering it free this week until Thursday on Amazon kindle. With 14 kids between us both, we have plenty of experience, and hope our tips, experiences, and birth stories can help support you on your journey to motherhood!

You don’t need a Kindle device to read it—you can get the free Kindle app on your phone, iPad or tablet as well. Here’s the link:

Beginners guide to growing baby: tips to help you through all four trimesters

You may wonder why we say tips for all four trimesters, instead of three, but this is not a typo! During the first three months of a baby’s life, they are still so completely dependent on their mothers to keep them alive, safe and secure. There is nowhere my nine week old son prefers to be, than snuggling on my chest, sleeping to the drum of my heartbeat.

At the same time, a mother’s health and happiness depends a lot on her baby. If he is nursing well, sleeping well, and generally content, so will she be. That means her snacking lots to keep up her energy for nursing, eating well, and napping with the little one, because newborn days are pretty exhausting—but with gentle care—happy baby, happy mama. This is why we call it the fourth trimester…not so much a time to rush into getting “back to normal,” but a time to move slowly while you continue to nurture fragile new life, grow into this new role of being a mom, and find the rhythm and support you need as well.

Huge hugs to all my fellow mamas! I hope you enjoy reading our birth stories!

Mama Counts

One little baby awake…

Just the two of us here in the dark.

My lil’ hot potato, only three weeks old,

Groovin to Al green at four am in Mama’s arms.

I hope you’ll be back asleep before five,

Cause I’ve been asleep for less than six hours

And I’ve got to get up at seven.

Welcome to the World, Tiny Foot

Your tiny foot—

softer than a silky dog’s ear—

easily fits into the palm of my hand

as you nurse yourself into a cozy milk coma

and snuggle by my side.

Only a week ago,

that same foot

was pushing up against my ribs,

knocking on the door of my heart

as if to say,

“Mama, I’m ready to meet the world!”

And oh, Tiny Foot, how ready I was to meet you!