TJ'S TIOS

NOT PREGNANT

2008-04-09T14:26:00.000-07:00

Tested yesterday and came up with nothing. We are bummed. There is a certain amount of entitlement that comes with nightly shots in the rump with a needle the size of an 8p nail. When one doesn't get what is wanted, and said rump is swollen, bruised, and hurting, one is allowed to be bummed. As Grace grows (she will be two on the 12th), the desire to have another child around grows as well. Sibling play together, siblings support each other when parents aren't around anymore. We want another one.

Just a few days before we were to test, my wife said they if it didn't work then she was going to stop trying. I told her not to jump to conclusions, and not to make any big decisions until we found out for sure what was going on. Last night, she turned to me after we climbed into bed and said, "I keep thinking that it will work the next time. I want to try one more time."

I said, "Good."

BLIGHTED OVUM

2008-03-27T15:28:00.000-07:00

Apparently, BLIGHTED OVUM is old school terminology. Regardless of what they call it now (Anembryonic Pregnancy or Early Pregnancy Failure ), it all means the same thing - Miscarriage. We went to the docs and they explained it the best they could: basically the egg was fertilized, the sac began to develop, but the pregnancy ceased before the embryo kicked in. Because we have to monitor everything, and take shots, and count the minutes to every step we knew we were pregnant before most folks would. Pretty much we can pinpoint the exact moment of prego-hood. The docs told us that some gals may not even be aware they are pregnant when they have a blighted ovum.

Linda took it rough. For me, when the doc told us that an embryo had not developed, I pretty much just wrote it off as another failed attempt. Bad me. I sort of just shrugged my shoulders at the whole thing and said, "Well, that's that." Not good. Linda was more emotionally entrenched and my response was devastating to her. She took my easy-come-easy-go manner as indifference. Which, looking back, we see that it wasn't, but it sure looked that way. I think the way I responded was a calculated, innate defense against suffering through another emotional rollercoaster like I had when we lost TJ. It isn't that I looked at the miscarriage as a "lesser" loss, but as something that I couldn't deal with in the first place. Linda and I were equally emotional about the situation, but my way of handling it was to put up a layer of bricks and somehow convince myself that she hadn't been pregnant at all.

So, here we are again. Shots, and scans, and time charts, and the whole bit. We know the formula. We know what needs to be done. Looking back over all my experiences in trying to get a family up and running, I have learned this: If an f-ing BLIGHTED OVUM ever comes my way again, I ain't gonna shrug it off. I am going to hold my wife close, and reassure her that I am there for her.

MISCARRIAGE

2008-03-23T00:01:00.000-07:00

I don't understand why it needs be so difficult to get knocked up? Last May we started the process of getting pregnant. There was a delay right off the bat with cysts, so Linda needed to go on birth control yadda yadda yadda. We had been down that road before. We were disappointed because with Grace it was so automatic. Wham Bam Thank Ya Mam. Prego Presto! This time took some work. The start of summer saw the start of shots. Shots led to tests. Tests led to disappointment. Three times? Twice? I was an emotional wreck and can't remember. Everything changed, though, when we got a positive read on a home prego test. The rule was, we wouldn't tell anyone. That didn't last. I was so excited I told all of Fresno pretty much. There were dr. appointments to make, plans to make (we would need to tear down the guest room for another baby room, right?), money to save. We went to our first "numbers count" meeting and the numbers (whatever they are) rose as they should. Excitement continues to build. We go again and the
numbers
dropped.

Disappointment. Disbelief. Heartbreak.

I immediately put up walls - a brick at a time. I didn't know what to say, or do, or anything. All I knew was that I couldn't let myself be crushed like I was with TJ. I seemed as if I had forgotten how to communicate my feelings, which didn't help things around our house. My gut instinct told me to count our losses AND our blessings and take Gracie and run with her. Linda took this as a sign that I maybe hadn't wanted a baby in the first place. We were in a communication sink hole.
We called Angel Babies. They were there to help us again. They were there to help sort through the emotions and miscommunication and helped to get things out in the open. I did want a baby, I was numbed by the loss, but I was having trouble finding my words. There is more to it then this. I will need to see how to spell it out.

The docs said we had to wait a while until we started up again trying for a baby. We miscarried right around Christmas, and the docs wanted a full cycles between tries to give Linda's body time to heal. We went to the doctor's last month. Again there were cysts, so Linda was put on birth control for a month. Now it is a go. We did the shots and inseminated yesterday......

RIP PART FOUR (4)

2007-05-30T16:12:00.000-07:00

THE FINAL CHAPTER

The time to hesitate is through

No time to wallow in the mire

Try now we can only lose

And our love become a funeral pyre

Come on baby, light my fire

- The Doors , Light My Fire

Hindus perfected the art of cremation. There is tradition and ritual involved in it. The eldest in the house lights the pyre. The ashes are collected afterwards and sent adrift in a sacred river. The cultural influence in America is changing the way we deal with our dead. The new crematorium in Turlock, where I grew up, is equipped with a family viewing room. From this gallery the family can watch the casket be loaded into the cremation chamber, and there is a STARTER button on the wall next to the window. The ancient cultural rites adapted for modern times. It works. Of course, the best funeral pyre ever is at the end of Return of the Jedi. Luke Skywalker lights the pyre containg the remains of Darth Vader, his father, thus returning his father's soul back to the light side. (See picture above)

When TJ died, my wife and I had to decide quickly what we were going to do. I didn’t think I could handle a funeral, so I tossed out the cremation suggestion. Linda agreed. Later, after we had time to really think about the whole thing, Linda told me that her initial reaction to the idea did not set well in her mind. Cremation to her is over-the-top. Does she regret the decision? She says no, and in fact she gets a lot of comfort from having him at home with us. Her concern at the time was not the funeral, but the internment. The idea of burying TJ in a cemetery was too much for grasp.

So here is our plan. Since Linda doesn’t like the idea of being cremated, she will have a traditional Catholic funeral Mass with a graveside service to follow. If I pass away after Linda, I will be cremated and my remains put into a pewter urn that matches TJ’s. No funeral, no memorial service, just my name in the paper and the address of the funeral home. If I die before Linda, she can have me embalmed and do the whole funeral thing. Regardless of all that, TJ will be placed in the casket with either me or Linda. We will more than likely buy a family tomb in the wall of the St. Anthony Chapel at St. Peter’s Cemetery in Fresno, California. One thing that Linda and I both agree upon is that neither of us likes the idea of being underground. The only reason we would plant ourselves in traditional plots would be if the cemetery allowed for big gaudy custom tombstones. I got a few ideas for something where grave stones are concerned. Don’t get me started…..

RIP PART THREE (3)

2007-05-30T15:24:00.000-07:00

My father was a mortician for almost 30 years. One would think that after so many years in the business he would have figured out the details of his own service. But no. Not only has he not figured any of specifics, he and my mother can not seem to agree on any of their preferences, other than both wanting to be cremated. My mother must be an old hippie at heart. She wants her ashes to be scattered in the roses that line the drive way of their home in Florence, Oregon. My father does not. If there is one thing he has determined it is that he likes the idea of having a little piece of real estate to call his own. He doesn’t know what kind, nor has he looked into buying anything. He just likes the idea of someone at some time wanting to look him up and maybe come to visit. My mother, apparently just wants to be plant food. Literally. The other aspects of their services have not even been talked about. Do they want a funeral Mass, just a memorial, or a funeral-less wake? What music do they want played? There are so many things to consider. Nothing is planned or worked out. Almost 30 years in the biz and my parents are going into their golden years blind.

We used to visit cemeteries on vacation. I now understand that my father was always on the lookout. Every trip was a scouting expedition for a potential life change – could we live here? My father said that a community could be judged by the cemeteries they keep. I still visit cemeteries when I travel. I couldn’t tell you how many I have been to. If we don’t stop, I sometimes take pictures of grave yards from car windows. I have a beautiful picture from my honeymoon that I took from the passenger side window of our 1978 Diesel Rabbit of the massive tombstones in the Guadalupe cemetery. I’m obsessed. It was Steinbeck’s grave that gave me my final burial plan. His is so simple, a brass plaque in the family plot with his name and the years of his life, 1902 – 1968. Simple. His cremated remains were placed under the name plate and that is that. Ever since visiting his grave for the first time back in 1987, I thought that is the plan for me. I want to be like Steinbeck.

Stay tuned for PART FOUR (4) in which our plan for TJ is finally revealed.

RIP PART TWO (2)

2007-05-23T17:53:00.000-07:00

As long as there has been life......there's been death, and the need to do something with the dead. Every culture has it's rituals. Shoot, there are so many different funeral ceremonies a person could go nuts trying to decide which is best for their dearly departed loved one. The ancient Egyptians got the whole embalming tradition started. They would pull the organs out and put them in beautifully carved canopic jars. Then they would pack the abdomen full of a tar like stuff. Of course we have all heard of them removing the brain through the nose! YUCK! But it worked! They wrapped up their family members and now almost every museum in the world has a mummy on display.

There was a group of Romans who lived in northern Egypt way back when. They morphed funeral traditions into a unique mummification that can be seen at the Getty Villa in Malibu. It seems the Romans liked to create portraits of their loved ones. And living in Egypt required a wrap job, so they combined the two. These guys placed a portrait, painted with wax on wood, over the face of the dead person and then proceed with the mummification process. The result is STUNNING. If the portrait wasn't good enough, they also painted the wrapping cloth. Very Cool!

By world standards, there are some cultures who still seem pretty primitive when it comes to dealing with their dead. There are some reclusive Tibetan sects who perform "Sky Burials." Basically they take the corpse to a sacred location atop a hill, or somewhere, then they dismember the body into small pieces, smash the bones up, and basically leave the remains exposed for the vultures to eat. Not pretty, but effective. Not something I would pick, but hey....who am I?

A traditional Hmong funeral can be seen as primitive in many ways, yet it has gained quite a bit of acceptance in America, at least where Hmong have settled (St. Paul area of Minnesota & here in the Central Valley of California). They are huge events with tons of people, music, and food, and ceremonies. I guess the biggest eye brow rising aspect is that of the animal sacrifice. Apparently local funeral homes, city councils, and community leaders have been able to come up with compromises that satisfy all involved. Most animals are butchered by commercial cutters and then delivered to the funeral homes. That is what I call, thinking outside the box.

All this info is interesting, but how would it help us? Stay tuned for PART THREE (3) in which I share our own personal wants and don't wants and what our final plan is for TJ.

RIP PART ONE (1)

2007-05-21T19:38:00.000-07:00

My son's remains are in a small urn about the size of a shot glass. It is a nice heavy peyter with his name and deliver date engraved on it: TJ Persons / February 5, 2005. From the day we ordered it I was worried that he wouldn't fit. When we sat with the mortician and worked through the paperwork and signed all the legal forms required by the state in order to cremate a loved one I asked if that urn would be big enough. "I am worried," I said. "I guarantee that the remains of your son will fit in an urn that size." I looked at him closely. I studied his eyes. My father was a mortician for nearly 30 years. I know how these guys work. But I trusted this guy. His eyes were real, sincere. "It's so small," I said. "I guarantee it," he assured. "Can I get it engraved?" I asked. "Absolutely. Wouldn't have it any other way," he said. We shook hands. "Sold."

It has been an age old issue. Some would consider it a problem. In fact entire cities have been created to accommodate the nagging reality of storing our dead. What do we do with everyone? My wife and I have been dealt a hand that demands an answer. When TJ died, we needed to come up with a plan. Now, after two years, we finally have one.

Stay tuned for PART TWO (2) in which I discuss various new and old traditions of handling our loved ones, and I may get to sharing what our plan is.

HAVING A BABY

2007-05-13T10:53:00.000-07:00

I don't care what nobody says
We're gonna have a baby

- Kings Of Leon

Well, we ain't knocked up yet, but that is the plan. We know the formula now, and we know how Linda's body will respond to pregnancy. Last week we went to meet with the docs to see about hatching another one. Scary, but exciting.

Linda and I were invited to meet with parents attending the same support group we went to ten days after losing TJ. We shared our experience and talked about some of the things we did that helped us make it through the whole thing. Their questions took a turn. They wanted to know about Linda's subsequent pregnancy. How did she know it was time? How did she feel? Etc.

It was terrifying. That was my answer. It was 34 weeks of anxiety (Gracie came early, about the same exact time TJ was delivered), stress, and uncertainty. We rented a Doppler so that I could check Gracie's heartbeat about six times a night. It was tough. Linda's input was less dramatic, although she had her fair share of moments.

Long story short, we didn't know it was time. We just did it and didn't let our fears dictate our decision making. Now we are going to do it again. Wish us luck!

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY! If you are in the midst of saddness, may you know your worth as a mother - for during the time you had your child in-utero, and even to this day and time, YOU ARE A MOTHER, AND ALWAYS WILL BE! We celebrate you and remember our little ones.

CINCO DE MAYO

2007-05-06T08:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my anniversary. For some bizarre, unknown reason, my wife has decided to stick with me for seventeen (17) years. What is she thinking!? For me, it has been a Godsend. Without her I would be some homeless bum, probably lost in some no-name town that doesn't take kindly to stinky strangers without luggage or money to spend. I have always dreamed of playing the part of David Banner, the wandering jack-of-all-trades who gets pissed in every episode and turns into the Incredible Hulk, but I know that I would more-than-likely end up a dirty, mangy hobo without hope. My wife has given me seventeen (17) years of hope.

We were married on CINCO DE MAYO on purpose. The only thing I demanded of the wedding planning was the date. I could care less about the tuxes, the flowers, the music, etc. The only thing I needed was the day. Growing up in the barrio of Turloco I never missed a Cinco de Mayo. I love the Mexican culture, La Raza. Ever since moving to Central Cali back in '80, I have loved the life, the food, the music, the style. When it came to getting married, the fear of missing an anniversary date scared me bad. Thus, my demand. It was a survival tactic that has worked since the day I came up with it.

Not only was it our anniversary, but it was also the 3rd annual Angel Babies 5K Run/Walk out at Woodward Park in Fresno. It has been the event that marks the beginning of another year without our boy, TJ. Last year we set up a table and passed out buttons that I made up with the Angel Babies logo on it and the words, I Have An Angel Baby. People appreciated the buttons so much that we decided we would do this each year as a way of reaching out to others who have experienced a loss as we have. This time we brought the button maker with us. Parents were able to add their baby's name to the logo paper and then I would make their button right there. I also had colored markers and blank paper out for the kids to make custom buttons of their own. It was fun. Plus, it offered an opportunity to share stories. I always appreciate it when people ask me about TJ. To share his existence with people brings me peace. I hope those whom I talked to yesterday felt a sense of peace as well.

MAGICAL THINKING

2007-05-02T22:48:00.000-07:00

I saw Joan Didion interviewed on a news channel. The piece was a promotion of the new Vanessa Redgrave one-woman show on Broadway. I was mesmerized by her manner and her obvious intelligence. At the same time she shared personal information about her struggle with grief that left her unable to rationalize even the most basic realities of her life. She was 100% aware of the fact that her husband, writer John Dunne, was dead. She was equally aware that he would come walking through the door and might get upset at the fact that his shoes were not where he kept them by the door. Like so many people who have experienced the rugged texture of grief, she had thrown at her the anxiety ridden need to determine whether or not she was going insane. She hashed out the answer in this intimately sparse account of the year following her husband's sudden death.

I finished the book and sent off a review of it to my counselor. Here is a copy of the email I sent her: I finished The Year of Magical Thinking this morning. It is a poem. The lyrical clusters are sparse, minimalist entries that lay out just the facts without any sap slowing things down. She is obviously of a literary class several notches above the common joe, but the reality of her situation puts that in check real fast. A New York intellectual who hob-nobs with the Hollywood jet set is dumbfounded and speechless when her husband tragically dies unexpectantly as they prepare for dinner one night. Her world comes crashing down like any one's would, and all her knowledge and culture can not answer even one question for her. Didion is honest and for everyone. Although I couldn't relate to her lifestyle, I completely related to her grief. Her situation was nothing like mine, but the similarities were enough to allow me to relate. The struggle to understand panic, the effect grief has on our ability to work, on our capacity to socialize, to function, are all shared honestly and without hesitation. She links the text with key images and quotes and thoughts throughout the text. The book can be taken in small pieces and the revelations are evenly distributed. It was easy to read and her observations and revelations were inspiring.Would I recommend it to someone who lost a baby? Maybe not. But it worked perfectly for someone like me who is looking back over a long process and is still as curious as ever about how people handle different scenarios. I learned some stuff from it. I would recommend it to someone who is struggling with the loss of a spouse after a year or so.

papaT: BLOGGER?

2007-05-01T21:22:00.000-07:00

What do I have to say about anything? Well, I guess the collected elements of my experiences may allow me a few trivial musings that may, or may not, offer particular insight for a handful of individuals. But, long story short, I ain't got much to say, and what I do have to say will surely prove to be not much. What???

I expect the topics to be varied, the comments to be random, and free flowing, but inevitably it will all circle back to my grief experience.

Two years ago my wife and I had a son, TJ, who was stillborn. He was a beautiful little boy with perfect features and huge feet and hands. The loss changed me in an instant. Everything I had planned and prepared for crumbled and life as I knew it was different. So began what the psych books call, "the new normal."

We'll see what happens. So much for a first post....not very long. Like I said: Long story short, I ain't got much to say.