No one knows the wonder
Our child awoke in us,
Our heart a perfect cradle
To hold its presence.
Inside and outside became one
As new waves of love
Kept surprising our soul.
Now we sit bereft
Inside a nightmare,
Our eyes numbed
By the sight of a grave
No parent should ever see.
We will wear this absence
Like a secret locket,
Always wondering why
Such a new soul
Was taken home so soon.
Let the silent tears flow
And when our eyes clear
Perhaps we will glimpse
How our eternal child
Has become the unseen angel
Who parents our heart
And persuades the moon
To send new gifts ashore.
John o’ Donague: Adapted from ‘For a Parent on the Death of a Child’ in To Bless this Space Between Us
___________________________________________
On the 22nd April 2016, at 6:15pm and 6:38pm respectively, Madeleine Kate‘s and Sebastian Mackenzie’s cries cut the air, declaring their arrival in the world - 6lbs 9oz and 5lbs, 8oz respectively of splendid humanness.
At 39 weeks gestation, induction was advised as my specialist warned that continuing beyond the full-term twin due date of 37 weeks became increasingly risky. I was admitted to St Paul’s Hospital, Vancouver, on the morning of the 21st April where we were allocated the large twin private room. It had been prepared in advance for my arrival and the waiting cots were labeled TWIN A and TWIN B along with labeled matching hats.
As the nurse welcomed me, I found myself feeling overwhelmingly vulnerable grappling with a colliding kaleidoscope of emotions - joy and sadness; gain and loss; hope and despair. These were complicated times. For Erin’s life still infuses our every waking hour, the memories of our wholeness as a family still haunts us, and her presence is still deeply embedded in our family. I found myself bewildered contemplating the absence of our daughter juxtaposed with the prospect of two new little people filling our family’s hole. Their imminent delivery after a blissful pregnancy intensified my memory of Erin’s advent in to the world. Her arrival had been swift – 3 hours from the first twinges of labour to her steaming delivery in the hospital car park in the brisk Cambridge air. Since deliveries seem to become swifter with each pregnancy, I had some anxiety about negotiating the hour’s drive from our rural Furry Creek home to the downtown Vancouver hospital for the twins’ delivery - especially since it included crossing the Lion’s Gate bridge with its notorious traffic jams. Although the planned induced delivery alleviated the hospital dash, I felt somehow cheated that my body was not to respond to its own timing - especially since my body had no indications that it was ready to deliver.
I arrived at the hospital with my shopping list of desirables including no caesarean, no pain management, delivery standing up and definitely no formula! But twin delivery is very different to my singleton births – the double fetal heart monitoring couldn’t be undertaken standing up; an epidural line needed to be inserted in case there were twin positioning complications requiring an emergency caesarean and the induced labour generated such intense contractions that I was more than willing to capitulate and have a drug-shrouded delivery. Thing 1, Madeleine, (who I had guessed was a boy) slipped in to the world at 6:15pm. Thing 2, Sebastian, (who I had guessed was a girl) arrived 25 minutes later. He had spent the latter part of my pregnancy spiraling from cephalic to breach position and in the last hours spun from breach to transverse to cephalic. I was delighted to have an easy straight-forward natural delivery - in spite of the high risk that accompanies twins. My boys had kept the genders from me for the duration of the latter part of the pregnancy - not once had they let slip their secret!
And yes, they are beautiful! The instant their skin touched mine I was infused with a heady intoxicating love and filled with wonder - of their tiny perfectly formed bodies; their distinctive physical characteristics and their immediately apparent personalities. Madeleine, almost a pound heavier, is the more strident and assertive of the two. Sebastian, whose frame is lithe and lean, has a perplexed expression with his little face puckering in to a frown or a puzzled look. He will be our phlegmatic philosopher.
Michael and I often comment on how we feel as though our loss of Erin is surreal; the advent of these two new little people seems even more so. We feel as though we are viewing our lives outside of our bodies, passive observers watching a fantasy of peculiar proportions. Sebastian and Madeleine’s presence has in fact heightened our loss of Erin. Her absence is even more pronounced as we embrace starting anew: the memories of the euphoric early days with Cameron and Erin are more poignant; the routines and rituals more memorialized and the happy memories of our extensive travels are sharper than ever before. Two years ago we visited Yellowstone National Park. We loved the experience and as a family we looked ahead and planned our 2016-summer holiday to other American National Parks (the Grand Canyon, Bryce, Yosemite and Zion Parks) to undertake our family passion of hiking in the great outdoors. Now approaching the 2016 summer break, and our long road trip to the American south, we realize that the family that will now undertake the trip we had planned two years previously will have a completely different composition.
The days that followed their birth have cemented the bonding between our family of 3 +1 and our Thing One and Thing Two. Cameron has risen to the challenge of big brother with grace and maturity; he is helpful, responsive and engaged although he declares changing nappies beyond his remit. At 3 weeks I negotiated some errands without the new two. It generated an overwhelming sense of emptiness and I missed their already distinctive personas. Madeleine's voracious feeding is followed her little tongue sticking out and her chest puffed out with satisfaction over her bloated stomach. Sebastian stares intently at bright lights with a perplexed gaze - a quiet reflective soul. Already their tiny presences are growing indelible roots in to our souls, just as Erin and Cameron have done.
And as the days, months, years slip by, their antics and idiosyncrasies will become part of the fabric of our family’s memories, and indeed part of each of our own identities and life histories. We are once again embarked on creating a new mandala, with intricate care and with tremendous investment of energy, time and love - and with accompanying deep vulnerability.
So we take tentative steps in to the future – as a very different family. We are both holding on to what we have known and loved while also paradoxically needing to let go so that we can grow beyond the pain and loss to embrace the new life that we’ve been granted.
And we know Erin is engaged with us in our endeavours - watching with immense joy and approval for she is indeed the foundation of our new family.