reason

There is this forest road some forty minutes away from our cabin. The first time we drove it to check out the sights, it was a few months after our baby died. Sensing how we all need the solace and silence of nature, my husband R packed us all into the car for a drive. The views astounded us. The silence, and the liveliness of it all. And, to see large fields of ferns, growing amongst soldiers of trees, was simply an unforgettable sight, for us used to the gray and brown and small foliage of the desert.

Recently, we took the drive again. I wanted to show you some pictures, but none portrayed the grandness and nonchalance of the place. It is rugged, yet regal. Very quiet. So still, yet brimming over with life (and decay, of course). The forest road runs at a high altitude, so there are several points where you stop and look out over massive areas densely crowded with trees, across mesas and often eye-to-eye with the clouds. You feel you stand almost at the top of the world, centuries-old rocks supporting you. The ground beneath feels solid, after centuries of movement. It feels strong, after it learned to move with the currents of time and forces of nature. Sweet little colorful flowers bloom here and there to contrast with the earth-old trees and rocks.

Here, along the road, amongst the ancient and the transient, I could feel Ferdinand's spirit very intimately. I knew that I am surrounded by the wholeness of his spirit, even his body. I felt then that he was not lost somewhere, or forever, but here, in the present, at one with the nature and the universe, breathing with me everywhere I go. And here, for an instant, I felt that a reason did not matter anymore.

:::::::::::::::::::

For a long time after he died, I wanted a reason. Desperately. Holding the one page pathological report in my hands, I googled furiously for answers. Those laconic yet loaded terms, within them must be encoded the answer to the mystery of his death.

But I did not find any answers. Not at all.

I searched my brains for things I did and did not do through the 40 weeks that I carried him, and tried to find a reason. Why? Because I felt it would give me some control. If it is because I ate shrimps, then, the next time I shall not touch a shrimp and all shall be fine.

Except I know that is wishful thinking. If only it could be that easy, to have that reassurance. Something else could of course happen.

A reason was so important, so I could hold someone (that is, me) or something, accountable. So I can be on the other side, in control and be all-knowing.

Slowly, gradually, I know that an answer, or a reason, may well just serve as a blind. Just something to give me a false sense of control. Just something to give me the illusion that I know the answer to questions that never shall have answers.

So, sometimes, I feel, there is no need for an answer. Because then there is no false perception of being in control. Then there is no illusion that I hold the key to a door that I can open for others. Sometimes, when immersed in the quiet prowess of nature, I feel that no reason is necessary, only love.

But, only sometimes.

Do you seek a reason? How? Why? If you found a reason, did it help?

Comments

[kalakly]

Even though I got a somewhat clear "reason", the autopsy listed cause of death, "strictures of the umbilical cord probable cause of fetal demise", which is a nontraditional type of cord accident, in that the cord was malformed but the malformation itself did not cause the death, more likely he twistd the cord at the malformation and that killed him, I am still left with, but how did the malformation get there, why? And since no one has yet been able to answer that, I am left with the only option available, proceed blindly and hope like hell it doesn't happen again.
Not a very reassuring place to be, but it's where I am.
So the short of it, from my perspective is that answers only lead to more questions, so why ask...

[CLC]

I want an answer because then I feel like I will have some control over the next time (note I say feel, not will). But no one will give me an answer with any certainty. It's always hedged with "this is probably what happened, but we will never be 100% sure." So I have to believe them that it was a freak cord accident and that it won't happen again. Otherwise, I wouldn't be doing this again. Still, there is always the nagging doubt in my mind. All I can do is wait and see if they were wrong.

[Heather]

We know why she died. Premature birth, low birth weight along with it. The neonatal team estimated her chances at 17% before her birth. When she was weighed she was 50 grams less than the ultrasound estimate, and that 17% fluttered into nothingness.

But the reason for her delivery, that was me. Pre-eclampsia, HELLP syndrome. That, we have no reason for. Medicine does not know the cause. There are certain risk factors, and things that are supposed to lower them, but no one can know what will happen "next time". The statistics are not good. I've had much guilt- did I gain too much weight? Did I take my blood pressure medications at good intervals? Did I do too much puttering around the house when I should have rested? It's enough to drive a person insane.

I too, have googled until I had read every reference multiple times. I yearn for more information but there are only questions, vague studies and anecdotes. None of which can answer, why me? Will it happen again?

We're months away from attempting another pregnancy, but when we do, I'll be informed and ready- I will take every little step I can take to improve the statistics by a fraction of a percentage. If I end up here again, I need to know the reason had nothing to do with choices I made in my pregnancy, but that it was just the way it was.

[tash]

I so desperately want a reason it's not even funny. I need to walk into things eyes wide open. I can't walk in with one doctor saying I have a 1:4 chance with no way of knowing, and another saying meh, probably infection, still dicey odds, we'll just watch things, but no way of knowing. No way of knowing?!? I want to know. I want to know at 11w that everything will be fine so I can exhale and buy diapers. I do not want to find out *at birth* that my next child, should there be one, will die. And that is what keeps me and my brain from even daring to think about it. I'm frozen, immobile, petrified, from not knowing.

[kate]

What happened to us was always portrayed as a random sniper - even at the very begining, when the possibility was whispered when the ultrasound revealed the rare twinning in which 15% of cases develop TTTS, the condition that caused their early birth and Liam's death. I didn't really contemplate a reason.

We lived in the NICU for two months, surrounded by a complete vaccum of reason. Walking through the hospital garden seeing six year-olds with cancer, or children with severe disability as Liam would have had. Seeing babies so tiny one morning, occupying the pod next door to one of ours, and then to come in the next day to see the nurses looking sad, the pod empty. Why would I get a reason when nobody does? You may get explanations but you'll never get a reason. All I saw around me were how desperately we all adore our children, and complete senselessness, long straws and short straws.

With some time, I've come to some small bit of acceptance in considering the reason for Liam's life. Not his death, but his life. Somehow I feel like his fate and Ben's fate were intertwined, and perhaps Liam had a job to do in helping Ben to get here safely. Perhaps Liam's soul signed up for what he went through in order to open our eyes, to make what love we have in our lives that much more vivid.

Sometimes I feel like that's the only kind of speculation I've got the energy for.

Lovely post, Janis.

[luna]

beautiful post.

I think we seek reasons to make sense of it, and to try to avoid/prevent it from happening again. but both of these are simply impossible.

control is an illusion.

[Kathy McC]

We got a reason with both our girls. And in a way, I feel lucky for that. Both of them died from chromosome defects, each defect different from the other. There was no concrete cause for the defects, but at least we knew there was a "good reason" for their deaths. It was comforting in a small way, because both girls had defects that would have made their lives hellish.

I did more of the crazed searching for answers when I was still pregnant and having problems. I found the answer of chromosome defect before we lost either one of them...but at the time I was so desperate for a glimmer of hope that I ignored the probable result.

It was not until the girls DNA was tested that we discovered the problem. And that was about six weeks after death in both cases.

[HMC]

I have a physical reason for why my daughter died - preterm birth due to my incompetent cervix, and a strep b infection no preemie her size could have fought off. I am thankful to know both of these things because it gives me options for subsequent pregnancies. I currently have a cervical cerclage, and when I go to the hospital to deliver, I will immediately be given antibiotics. I am thankful to know these things, but this knowledge doesn't exclude the possibility of something else going wrong. For that I just have to trust and have faith - and that is scary.

[S.]

This has been so huge for me.

I was never given an explanation of any sort. Autopsy "inconclusive." It keeps me up at night, researching on the internet, comparing pictures of other babies that have died, trying to put the pieces together, trying to remember signs during my pregnancy that I somehow missed. If it wasn't a cord accident, and she was perfectly healthy, then why? Do some babies just die?

But, a *reason*? I don't know if I believe there is one. I believe that I can take things from the experience, but I don't know that there are answers to all the why's. I wish there were, but some things just are.

[starrlife]

I love this post since I positively obsess about trauma/grief events. I research everything, (Google is my friend), I read, I join forums, I pester the Dr's/experts. It soothes me briefly (and stringing the brief moments can stretch numbness into minutes/hours) and is merely a tool for me to wrestle with my internal existential dilemma's re: control and helplessness. I think it is wonderful to do, if it works for you. My family all counsel me to let go, don't pick the scab but I find that what they find torture I find comfort. And I do find reasons- not always medical but a vast quilt of factors that all add up only with that dash of fate/ randomness/who knows and I slowly let go as it starts to melt and become part of who I am. Thanks for the post.

[Katherine]

Google is not my friend anymore.

I found out the pregnancy tea I had been drinking religiously when I was pregnant with my son, in my desperate attempts to force a "please, please, this one's got to be alright" response frome the universe, contained nettles as a major ingredient. Nettles - used in herbal medicine as an anticoagulant.

I have a reason for Aeryn's death, yes, but in many ways it makes me feel worse because if I'd not been pinching pennies, if I'd been more attentive and brewed the endless cups of tea, maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have thrown a clot. If they'd tested (though I've been told several times now they don't test for thrombophilia till you've had several miscarriages, "it's just not cost effective since 9-10% of the population at large has it") we could have managed it. It's probably the same reason I miscarried.

Reasons have only thrown another log across the road, one more giant obstacle for me to stare at and try and determine whether I really want to go down it again. Maybe if I tiptoe closer I'll see it's a bridge across a chasm, but right now it's a long way down the street and I feel like there'll be a snake curled up underneath it.

[Antigone]

If I can find a reason, then I can find a treatment or at the very least know what the chances are of going through the loss all over again.

That said, I embarked on this current pregnancy without much knowledge or evidence. I took the chance and now it looks like I may have a living child. Lucky for me as circumstances evolved in such a way that this may have truly been my last chance.

[niobe]

I don't have answers. I don't even have questions.

[Heather]

The "random sniper" Kate refers to is what killed our baby girls, TTTS, ... and for me, having a reason was critical. I struggle with blaming myself for absolutely everything, so knowing there wasn't anything I could do for them helped me heal.

Thank you for your post today.

[janis]

I just want to thank you all for your answers.
Reason or not; or if a reason is the same as an explanation, or an answer; if it helps us go on... ... all your answers weave into the fabric of the human face of experience, and I so appreciate your adding your thread to this weaving.

[STE]

I typed out a whole long, thoughtful repsonse, but lost it somehow.

I crave reason, sense, cause, explanation, and yet I fear it because I am afraid of confirming my own fears that I did cause my loss, because of what I did or didn't do. It was a complicated pregnancy, I was not at my best. I look back now and it seems like a dream, everything that happened. Some of it was good and happy, but much of it was confusing, or tiring or painful or worrisome. And then it ended.

I kind of still feel like this is some kind of dream, or I hope so. It is just a year now that I started getting the BFPs for this cycle. Just the very beginning. The world I live in right now, it's just enough *off* to feel like it's a dream. You know, how things are all kind of normal, but there's this weird piece of information, or event, that happens that keeps you aware you're in a dream?

Okay, enough of that. I don't know if a reason would help. It would be nice to be armed with information, but I wonder if it would hurt in other ways. In a way, chaos absolves all of us of responsibility, but that is sort of head in the sand thinking, isn't it.

We shall see, I guess.

[Michelle]

Yes, we have a reason for our daughter's death. Down syndrome ... causing a structural lung abnormality and lung disease that is incompatible with life. We know the type of Down syndrome that she had (one of the rarest) -- we know the extent of her malformed and diseased lungs (again, another rare occurrence). We are fortunate that we have answers -- but the one answer I still crave is the answer to "why?" Yes, we are so incredibly lucky to be able to put our heads on our pillows at night and have no question about what happened -- medically, anyway. But I still want to know why her? I still want to know the spiritual "why?"

[Rosepetal]

No answers were found here. I don't wonder any more although it used to consume me.

[Dr Joanne]

Janis,
Beautiful, moving post. Thank you.

For me- and this is just for me- the seeking of an answer was part of my journey. I never found one. She died, I suspect, during a traumatic birth. But I will never know with certainty. I searched. Oh I searched. But seeking leads often to the beginning of knowinglessness; an empty place where even answers, for me, could not comfort. I came to the realization that even if G*d Him/Herself came to me and told me the reason for her death, it would never be good enough to accept with peace. My peace must not come from an answer outside my self. My peace must imbue from within me...the answers I seek are not- really- of this world anymore. And for me, like you, at some point it just didn't matter anymore.

Beautiful thoughts, really.

[Karin]

I sought answers after Soren died. That is how I came to MISS. But no explanations helped heal that broken part. Nothing answered my big existential 'why'.

Then when a friend suggested to me that the 'reason this happened was because I wasn't positive enough', I knew that there wasn't going to be a reason. As much as I hated her for saying such crap, her idiotic comment, by way of repelling me, directed me towards the knowledge that life is random.

This helped me to cope with Imogen and Heloise's deaths and Roku and Seven's miscarriages because I knew I had done everything I could do and what happened to us, while incredibly rare, was random. No one was persecuting me, my thoughts did not have the power to kill, I am a kind enough person, a good enough person. I am deserving.

Knowing that life is random is not exactly satisfying because I'd like a written guarantee for my only living child. Very much. But it helps me to strive to 'be here now' with him. It sounds so corny to say, but I don't know what tomorrow holds so I chose to love today.

[janis]

My heart is with you STE, I wish you all the best.

Michelle, I think we all ask the big spiritual "why", because I suspect, we wonder, why do bad things happen to good people? But in the end, it seems the answer is just- chance.

Joanne- I also felt no reason will ever be good enough. There is no reason good enough for one to suffer the heartbreak of losing a child. In the end, I suspect we all come to face that ultimate "reason" of chance. It is hard.

Karin, I am sorry your friend said that to you. We want reason, not a pointing finger telling us we were "not good enough." I am glad You've come to where you are today. ((hugs))

[Funsize]

His death certificate cites "Abruptio Placentae", "asphyxiation", and "cardiac arrest". His poor heart stopped beating because he stopped breathing. He had no oxygen left because my placenta failed him, it peeled away and slowly suffocated him. I wish I knew why my body failed him. I wish the doctors could tell me why. Because I feel like if I had a reason why, I could avoid whatever I did wrong so I don't have to walk on eggshells the next time I get pregnant.

[Sophie]

I want answers. I want to know. Though I don't think it will make any difference. Like so many before me have said, it's a control thing. If I know what happened then maybe I can stop it happening again, and my next pregnancy wont be so horrendously scary.

I agree that any control we have over anything is merely an illusion.

[Becky]

I know my son dies to lack of lung development. I know he was perfect otherwise. I know that the lung development was due to lack of amniotic fluid. I know I lost the fluid during a major placental abruption. I BELIEVE (though no one could say 100% for certain) that the abruption was caused be early on-set PreE.

He was delivered at 27 weeks due to PreE and HELLP. My body was killing my son.

I know why he died. I don't know why my body did it.

Thank God, my next pregnancy showed absolutely none of the symptoms of my pregnancy with William. I have a beautiful daughter. He would have been perfect too, if my body had given him a chance. If I had at LEAST been able to retain the fluid, he made it to 27 weeks, and might've had a chance at survival.

I know more than I ever thought I'd know about PreE and my circulatory system. But still...no one knows "why"

[kate]

We searched for a reason and none was found...this was very very hard for me. Eventually i let it go, i think out of exhaustion. I did come up with my own hypothesis as to what exactly happened to Nicolas, but i have no way of knowing if that is true or not. It is just one more thing about him that i will never know.

[Ellen]

I read everything. I developed theories. I vowed the next time would be different.

Now in the next time, it is the same, all the same complications as with our dead baby.

I can only wait for the inevitable, bereft even of the hope of randomness.

[janis]

Ellen, I am so terribly sorry. This is so devastating and killing. ((hugs))