We visited the Mall of America mainly so the kids could go on the rides. Oh, and Gabby also visited the princess store... aka, the Disney store. And, of course she made out like a bandit. What princess wouldn't though, right?
8/16/09
Photos from the Mall of America:
We visited the Mall of America mainly so the kids could go on the rides. Oh, and Gabby also visited the princess store... aka, the Disney store. And, of course she made out like a bandit. What princess wouldn't though, right?
8/12/09
Dreams
Sadly, my dreams are taking a new turn in recent weeks.
While in Minnesota, on the one month anniversary of Matteo's death, I had the most disturbing vision/dream. Dan was sleeping upstairs in my old bedroom with Rocco in the pack-n-play next to his bed. I was sleeping downstairs in another room with Gabby. I woke up and saw Dan leaning over the bed. He was kissing Gabby on the forehead and he had his University of Arizona visor on. I remember thinking it was crazy that he was wearing his visor in the middle of the night. At the same exact moment, Gabby woke up and said "Daddy? Dada? Dada?" I reached out to touch Dan's head, but didn't feel him. I reached for him again and I realized he wasn't really there, but that it was my dream. I freaked out. Literally. Gabby had to have seen him/felt him too, right? She said his name several times. I heard her. My mind immediately started racing... I looked at my BlackBerry so I could see what time it was - it was 1:10am CA time (3:10am MN time). I was SO worried that Dan had now died in his sleep and he was coming to tell us he was ok. I grabbed Gabby, headed up the stairs... I opened my old bedroom door... half wanting to, half scared out of my mind for what I might discover... and I poked Dan twice. He woke up. I'm sure he was a little confused at the time. Then, we checked on Rocco to make sure he was ok. Everyone was ok.
I was so confused. I walked back down the stairs. I crawled back into bed with Gabby. I snuggled her tight. I was scared. This was so strange. I was SURE I saw Dan. COMPLETELY SURE. And, why would Gabby wake up at the same exact time saying "Daddy?". Then, I thought about the time... it was 1:10am CA time. Matteo's birthdate was 1/10. Was he trying to reach out to us? Was he trying to tell us something? Did he die around this time?
Needless to say... I ended up getting about 4 hours of sleep that night.
On Wednesday, August 12th, I experienced the first dreams where Matteo was dead in my dreams. We were doing things as a family... living life, but Matteo was dead. He was not living and breathing with us anymore. And, we acknowledged his death in our conversations, etc. It was a completely restless night. And maybe I shouldn't be calling these dreams... it might be more accurately described as a nightmare just because they were disturbing and haunted me all night. I kept waking up. Once awake, I couldn't help but think about every place my mind had just taken me. And, of course... then there was the shock and pain that Matteo was now dead in my dreams. It was horribly sad for me, to think that my mind is now starting to accept this awful truth.
On that same night, Gabby was sleeping next to me. I woke up at one point holding her hand. As my mind was waking up, I was convinced I was holding Matteo's cold, dead hand. I held it tight and squeezed it and probably within 2 seconds, I realized it was not Matteo's had, but it was Gabby's. My immediate emotions were the pain of his death. The feelings I had when I held my dead baby on the awful morning we discovered him. My next reaction was to feel Gabby's chest and make sure she was still breathing. Her skin was cold from sleeping on top of the covers (she's a hot-pot and sleeps above the covers on hot nights). But, it was completely disturbing to wake up with this dream and feel her cold body. It shook me to the core.
When your child dies in their sleep and you don't know why... every night is difficult. You're scared to go in and check on your kids. But at the same time, you're scared to NOT go in and check on your kids repeatedly... because sadly, you now fear the worst. You now feel completely vulnerable to death. Like death will strike whenever it so chooses... and what if it struck us again.
You can't help but wonder and live with this fear.
I'm sure that fear is great ammunition for my dreams/nightmares every night. And it probably will be for a long time.
While in Minnesota, on the one month anniversary of Matteo's death, I had the most disturbing vision/dream. Dan was sleeping upstairs in my old bedroom with Rocco in the pack-n-play next to his bed. I was sleeping downstairs in another room with Gabby. I woke up and saw Dan leaning over the bed. He was kissing Gabby on the forehead and he had his University of Arizona visor on. I remember thinking it was crazy that he was wearing his visor in the middle of the night. At the same exact moment, Gabby woke up and said "Daddy? Dada? Dada?" I reached out to touch Dan's head, but didn't feel him. I reached for him again and I realized he wasn't really there, but that it was my dream. I freaked out. Literally. Gabby had to have seen him/felt him too, right? She said his name several times. I heard her. My mind immediately started racing... I looked at my BlackBerry so I could see what time it was - it was 1:10am CA time (3:10am MN time). I was SO worried that Dan had now died in his sleep and he was coming to tell us he was ok. I grabbed Gabby, headed up the stairs... I opened my old bedroom door... half wanting to, half scared out of my mind for what I might discover... and I poked Dan twice. He woke up. I'm sure he was a little confused at the time. Then, we checked on Rocco to make sure he was ok. Everyone was ok.
I was so confused. I walked back down the stairs. I crawled back into bed with Gabby. I snuggled her tight. I was scared. This was so strange. I was SURE I saw Dan. COMPLETELY SURE. And, why would Gabby wake up at the same exact time saying "Daddy?". Then, I thought about the time... it was 1:10am CA time. Matteo's birthdate was 1/10. Was he trying to reach out to us? Was he trying to tell us something? Did he die around this time?
Needless to say... I ended up getting about 4 hours of sleep that night.
On Wednesday, August 12th, I experienced the first dreams where Matteo was dead in my dreams. We were doing things as a family... living life, but Matteo was dead. He was not living and breathing with us anymore. And, we acknowledged his death in our conversations, etc. It was a completely restless night. And maybe I shouldn't be calling these dreams... it might be more accurately described as a nightmare just because they were disturbing and haunted me all night. I kept waking up. Once awake, I couldn't help but think about every place my mind had just taken me. And, of course... then there was the shock and pain that Matteo was now dead in my dreams. It was horribly sad for me, to think that my mind is now starting to accept this awful truth.
On that same night, Gabby was sleeping next to me. I woke up at one point holding her hand. As my mind was waking up, I was convinced I was holding Matteo's cold, dead hand. I held it tight and squeezed it and probably within 2 seconds, I realized it was not Matteo's had, but it was Gabby's. My immediate emotions were the pain of his death. The feelings I had when I held my dead baby on the awful morning we discovered him. My next reaction was to feel Gabby's chest and make sure she was still breathing. Her skin was cold from sleeping on top of the covers (she's a hot-pot and sleeps above the covers on hot nights). But, it was completely disturbing to wake up with this dream and feel her cold body. It shook me to the core.
When your child dies in their sleep and you don't know why... every night is difficult. You're scared to go in and check on your kids. But at the same time, you're scared to NOT go in and check on your kids repeatedly... because sadly, you now fear the worst. You now feel completely vulnerable to death. Like death will strike whenever it so chooses... and what if it struck us again.
You can't help but wonder and live with this fear.
I'm sure that fear is great ammunition for my dreams/nightmares every night. And it probably will be for a long time.
8/9/09
Crib
We took down one of the cribs today in Rocco and Matteo's bedroom.
We have left Matteo's crib up. We took down Rocco's crib. I could not bring myself to part with Matt's crib.
His bite marks line the front rail, it's the crib both boys slept in together until they were about four months old. It has too many memories.
I told Dan about two weeks ago that we'd be taking Rocco's crib down and not Matteo's. I cried when I told him why I couldn't part with Matt's crib. It's where we can still see his tooth marks. It's where I remember him holding onto the rails and eagerly awaiting me to grab him out of his crib. It's where he'd look out at Rocco across the room... and they'd jump together and scream/talk back and forth before bedtime. It's where he slept with his twin brother for four months. And, sadly, it's where he spent the last hours of his life and took his last breath. I cried when I told Dan why I couldn't get rid of Matt's crib. I told him we'd probably have Matt's crib for the rest of our lives. I just don't think I can ever get rid of it. Dan just held me while I cried.
Rocco will now sleep in Matt's crib. I know with my whole heart that Matt will watch over Rocco in that crib. He'll sleep with his brother every single night and be his guardian angel, keeping him safe.
So, today... Dan took down Rocco's crib. I couldn't be in the room while he dismantled it. I didn't want to see it being taken apart. That would have been too difficult. But at the same time, I knew in my heart it was time for us to do this.
What brought me to tears today and made me sob was not how I felt, but how Gabby reacted to us taking down the crib. She did not understand why Dan was taking one of them down. She got very sad. She kept asking why we were taking the crib apart. We told her it was because Matteo died and only one baby needs a crib now. She said "but what if he comes back?" We had to tell her repeatedly, that he wasn't coming back. Do you know how hard that was? Do you know how hard it was to tell her that Matteo will not be coming back to sleep in the bedroom he shares with his twin brother?
Do you know how hard it is to look at your sad-faced, teary-eyed 3.5 year old who lives in a princess and fairy land where everything has a happy ending... and try to explain to her that this tragic event in our lives can not be reversed? That he will not come back to life? She has said on more than one occacasion that she thinks and wishes for Matteo to come back for her birthday party in November. It's almost as if she thinks he's just on a mini-vacation. Oh, how I wish that were the case. And, then when I tell her he won't be coming back now and he won't be coming back for her birthday it's as if I'm crushing her belief and dream that he WILL come back for her birthday party... and that everything will once again be perfect and Matt will be with us.
Do you know how hard it is to not be able to fix this problem? It rips your heart out. Literally. To see Gabby sad about Matteo. And, knowing that she does not "really" understand why Matteo's not coming back. At the same time, I can't even f'ing believe my child won't be coming back. I don't know why he died and I can't yet tell her why he died or why he had to leave us.
Yeah. It sucks. It sucks beyond words. It's like having someone reach into your chest, pull your heart out, throw it on the ground, jump up and down on it a million times. And, then do it repeatedly every day.
Then... she tells me she is sad and that she really misses Matteo. And, I know in my heart that she is possibly starting to "get it" a little more. Just as I am. That Matteo is not coming back. He's gone. I can look out the door for as long as I want and wait for someone to bring him back. But, he's not coming back. I can wish upon his star and pray every night before I go to bed that this is all an awful, AWFUL, sick nightmare. But, it's not. It's our new reality. And nobody "really" knows how we feel. Nobody knows how I feel. Nobody knows how Dan feels. Nobody knows how Gabby feels. Nobody knows how Rocco feels.
And, while we have felt the love and contined generousity from so many people... our many dear friends, family and even complete strangers... I have never, ever felt more alone in my entire life.
Completely, and fully alone.
I look around me and people are living life. Their lives are normal and they don't have this giant hole in their chest that I feel every minute of the day. Our lives are different now. Forever. I miss Matt. We miss Matt. I miss him more than I have ever missed anything and more than I could ever explain to anyone. I feel bad for my husband. I feel bad for my kids. I feel bad because I know what we're missing and what we'll never, ever be able to replace. It's a giant hole. GIANT.
It's hard. Sometimes every day seems more difficult. Every day is another day that I miss my sweet baby and another day since I last held him and felt him snuggle up to me. And, I don't want to get used to missing him... ever. I don't want to reach the point of it feeling "normal" without him. The thought of that alone is painful.
We have left Matteo's crib up. We took down Rocco's crib. I could not bring myself to part with Matt's crib.
His bite marks line the front rail, it's the crib both boys slept in together until they were about four months old. It has too many memories.
I told Dan about two weeks ago that we'd be taking Rocco's crib down and not Matteo's. I cried when I told him why I couldn't part with Matt's crib. It's where we can still see his tooth marks. It's where I remember him holding onto the rails and eagerly awaiting me to grab him out of his crib. It's where he'd look out at Rocco across the room... and they'd jump together and scream/talk back and forth before bedtime. It's where he slept with his twin brother for four months. And, sadly, it's where he spent the last hours of his life and took his last breath. I cried when I told Dan why I couldn't get rid of Matt's crib. I told him we'd probably have Matt's crib for the rest of our lives. I just don't think I can ever get rid of it. Dan just held me while I cried.
Rocco will now sleep in Matt's crib. I know with my whole heart that Matt will watch over Rocco in that crib. He'll sleep with his brother every single night and be his guardian angel, keeping him safe.
So, today... Dan took down Rocco's crib. I couldn't be in the room while he dismantled it. I didn't want to see it being taken apart. That would have been too difficult. But at the same time, I knew in my heart it was time for us to do this.
What brought me to tears today and made me sob was not how I felt, but how Gabby reacted to us taking down the crib. She did not understand why Dan was taking one of them down. She got very sad. She kept asking why we were taking the crib apart. We told her it was because Matteo died and only one baby needs a crib now. She said "but what if he comes back?" We had to tell her repeatedly, that he wasn't coming back. Do you know how hard that was? Do you know how hard it was to tell her that Matteo will not be coming back to sleep in the bedroom he shares with his twin brother?
Do you know how hard it is to look at your sad-faced, teary-eyed 3.5 year old who lives in a princess and fairy land where everything has a happy ending... and try to explain to her that this tragic event in our lives can not be reversed? That he will not come back to life? She has said on more than one occacasion that she thinks and wishes for Matteo to come back for her birthday party in November. It's almost as if she thinks he's just on a mini-vacation. Oh, how I wish that were the case. And, then when I tell her he won't be coming back now and he won't be coming back for her birthday it's as if I'm crushing her belief and dream that he WILL come back for her birthday party... and that everything will once again be perfect and Matt will be with us.
Do you know how hard it is to not be able to fix this problem? It rips your heart out. Literally. To see Gabby sad about Matteo. And, knowing that she does not "really" understand why Matteo's not coming back. At the same time, I can't even f'ing believe my child won't be coming back. I don't know why he died and I can't yet tell her why he died or why he had to leave us.
Yeah. It sucks. It sucks beyond words. It's like having someone reach into your chest, pull your heart out, throw it on the ground, jump up and down on it a million times. And, then do it repeatedly every day.
Then... she tells me she is sad and that she really misses Matteo. And, I know in my heart that she is possibly starting to "get it" a little more. Just as I am. That Matteo is not coming back. He's gone. I can look out the door for as long as I want and wait for someone to bring him back. But, he's not coming back. I can wish upon his star and pray every night before I go to bed that this is all an awful, AWFUL, sick nightmare. But, it's not. It's our new reality. And nobody "really" knows how we feel. Nobody knows how I feel. Nobody knows how Dan feels. Nobody knows how Gabby feels. Nobody knows how Rocco feels.
And, while we have felt the love and contined generousity from so many people... our many dear friends, family and even complete strangers... I have never, ever felt more alone in my entire life.
Completely, and fully alone.
I look around me and people are living life. Their lives are normal and they don't have this giant hole in their chest that I feel every minute of the day. Our lives are different now. Forever. I miss Matt. We miss Matt. I miss him more than I have ever missed anything and more than I could ever explain to anyone. I feel bad for my husband. I feel bad for my kids. I feel bad because I know what we're missing and what we'll never, ever be able to replace. It's a giant hole. GIANT.
It's hard. Sometimes every day seems more difficult. Every day is another day that I miss my sweet baby and another day since I last held him and felt him snuggle up to me. And, I don't want to get used to missing him... ever. I don't want to reach the point of it feeling "normal" without him. The thought of that alone is painful.
Nothing yet.
I spoke with the coroner, Dr. J, on Thursday, July 30th for about 45 minutes. They do not yet have a cause of death for Matteo Tate.
We know nothing. Nothing. And, that is so very difficult. I wish with all my heart that we would know something... anything.
Dr. J said that based on her autopsy and the blood tests that have already been completed, that Matteo did not show signs of:
· Meningitis or Meningococcal
· Pneumonia
· Myocarditis
· Anomalous left coronary artery
· Brain aneurism
· H1N1 Virus (Swine Flu)
I asked if they would be doing the DNA analysis on his heart tissue which could tell us if he had an abnormal heart rhythm. Dr. J said this DNA test costs thousands of dollars, and that she wasn’t sure if this is something they would test for. I asked “What if you don’t find a cause of death? Would you do the test then?” She wasn’t sure, but it was something they would look into.
I asked if we could send the tissue samples to Stanford for another review, already knowing that Stanford would not accept the tissue samples unless the SCC Coroner’s office needed a more expert analysis of either the heart or brain tissues. I think I offended her in mentioning a second review – which I truly didn’t mean to do. I just want to know my child died. I want to know that my other children aren't going to die in their sleep... suddenly and unexpected. She went on to tell me that we would need to cover all the costs of the “consult” because at this time, she did not feel a review by another expert was necessary. Then she went on to explain how she did all of her training at Stanford and that she knows the lead pathologist there, etc.
Dr. J went explained that Matteo looked like a very healthy child. His heart looked good. His brain looked good. All of his organs looked good.
Ugh. That makes me SO ANGRY. So why did he die then? Why? WHY? How does a healthy baby just die?
In addition to questioning Dr. J about all the heart-related theories that the Heart Center MD’s explained to me, I also brought up another “guess” that one of my coworkers passed on from a lead RN in the Heart Center. She thought that maybe Matteo could have died from a febrile seizure. Dr. J said she was going to look into this a bit further. She said that Matteo did not have any bite marks on his tongue, and that he did not show signs of struggle... both which are typically related to a seizure. However, he did show some very minor signs of asphyxia.
This killed me to hear this. Literally. I couldn’t catch my breath. Hearing this made me realize that even though every ounce of my soul needs and wants to know why and how Matteo died… it may be the most painful sentence I ever hear in my life. And, I don’t know if I’m prepared for that.
Tell me it was meningitis. Tell me it was meningococcal. Tell me it was a genetic problem with his heart or brain. Tell me it was something we couldn’t have fought or changed or that there was nothing that could have been done to prevent it. Please... please... please. But don’t tell me he died of something that perhaps had I been holding him in my arms… I would have maybe, possibly, had a chance at completely avoiding this devestating loss.
Dr. J went on to tell me not to get discouraged just yet. She said she has done a large number of autopsies on infants and that she has not been able to find a cause of death for only a handful of those children.
Because Matt had a fever for the day and a half before he died, most MD’s I have spoken to, including Dr. J, suspect he was fighting something… and maybe it was something he couldn’t fight due to his weak immune system.
So, in addition to still waiting on the toxicology blood tests, Dr. J sent blood samples to a microbiology lab to see if they can find a micro biotic infection. Dr. J indicated that some viruses/bacteria/infections are not detectable on the normal set of blood tests and that his cause of death may have been something that is only detectable through this more detailed analysis.
So we know nothing yet. Only that Matteo looked like a very healthy kid. He had a fever for approximately 30 hours before he died. And, he died in his sleep... peacefully... without a sound.
And, we're missing him more than words can ever, ever explain to anyone. Our world is forever changed... tragically.
We know nothing. Nothing. And, that is so very difficult. I wish with all my heart that we would know something... anything.
Dr. J said that based on her autopsy and the blood tests that have already been completed, that Matteo did not show signs of:
· Meningitis or Meningococcal
· Pneumonia
· Myocarditis
· Anomalous left coronary artery
· Brain aneurism
· H1N1 Virus (Swine Flu)
I asked if they would be doing the DNA analysis on his heart tissue which could tell us if he had an abnormal heart rhythm. Dr. J said this DNA test costs thousands of dollars, and that she wasn’t sure if this is something they would test for. I asked “What if you don’t find a cause of death? Would you do the test then?” She wasn’t sure, but it was something they would look into.
I asked if we could send the tissue samples to Stanford for another review, already knowing that Stanford would not accept the tissue samples unless the SCC Coroner’s office needed a more expert analysis of either the heart or brain tissues. I think I offended her in mentioning a second review – which I truly didn’t mean to do. I just want to know my child died. I want to know that my other children aren't going to die in their sleep... suddenly and unexpected. She went on to tell me that we would need to cover all the costs of the “consult” because at this time, she did not feel a review by another expert was necessary. Then she went on to explain how she did all of her training at Stanford and that she knows the lead pathologist there, etc.
Dr. J went explained that Matteo looked like a very healthy child. His heart looked good. His brain looked good. All of his organs looked good.
Ugh. That makes me SO ANGRY. So why did he die then? Why? WHY? How does a healthy baby just die?
In addition to questioning Dr. J about all the heart-related theories that the Heart Center MD’s explained to me, I also brought up another “guess” that one of my coworkers passed on from a lead RN in the Heart Center. She thought that maybe Matteo could have died from a febrile seizure. Dr. J said she was going to look into this a bit further. She said that Matteo did not have any bite marks on his tongue, and that he did not show signs of struggle... both which are typically related to a seizure. However, he did show some very minor signs of asphyxia.
This killed me to hear this. Literally. I couldn’t catch my breath. Hearing this made me realize that even though every ounce of my soul needs and wants to know why and how Matteo died… it may be the most painful sentence I ever hear in my life. And, I don’t know if I’m prepared for that.
Tell me it was meningitis. Tell me it was meningococcal. Tell me it was a genetic problem with his heart or brain. Tell me it was something we couldn’t have fought or changed or that there was nothing that could have been done to prevent it. Please... please... please. But don’t tell me he died of something that perhaps had I been holding him in my arms… I would have maybe, possibly, had a chance at completely avoiding this devestating loss.
Dr. J went on to tell me not to get discouraged just yet. She said she has done a large number of autopsies on infants and that she has not been able to find a cause of death for only a handful of those children.
Because Matt had a fever for the day and a half before he died, most MD’s I have spoken to, including Dr. J, suspect he was fighting something… and maybe it was something he couldn’t fight due to his weak immune system.
So, in addition to still waiting on the toxicology blood tests, Dr. J sent blood samples to a microbiology lab to see if they can find a micro biotic infection. Dr. J indicated that some viruses/bacteria/infections are not detectable on the normal set of blood tests and that his cause of death may have been something that is only detectable through this more detailed analysis.
So we know nothing yet. Only that Matteo looked like a very healthy kid. He had a fever for approximately 30 hours before he died. And, he died in his sleep... peacefully... without a sound.
And, we're missing him more than words can ever, ever explain to anyone. Our world is forever changed... tragically.
8/4/09
Baby Surprise
I found out I was pregnant with Baby Surprise the first week of May.
We weren’t trying to get pregnant. We weren’t expecting it. It was a total surprise... which made the news tad bit overwhelming. I think I shook for a full day and a half after taking the home pregnancy test.
Not many people knew of our news… a handful of people knew. It was like our fun little secret.
On July 2nd, two and a half days before Matteo died, I had my first trimester ultrasound at just over 12 weeks. Baby Surprise was looking good. Healthy heart beat and quite the wiggler. Dr. C predicted with 90% certainty that Baby Surprise was going to be a girl. A sweet baby girl. She is the same physician who predicted the twins were both boys at the same point in my pregnancy two years ago.
I couldn’t wait to tell Dan. I was suddenly so excited. No matter how crazy our lives would soon be… it was going to be awesome. We were going to have two girls and two boys… we would be a family of six in just six short months. How shocking and crazy… but how wonderfully perfect at the same time.
Two and a half days later. Our world came crashing down on us. And, I mean CRASHING. Crashing and slamming.
Now, everything is so NOT perfect. Matter of fact, everything is light years away from ever being perfect again. Our family will always be wonderful… but it will never again be perfect. We now have a huge, gaping hole in our family. Forever.
I met with my OB doctor at 16 weeks for a regular appointment that was scheduled before Matteo died. However, Dr. C knew that Matteo died because I’ve had to discuss my health with her on the phone ever since. She started crying when she saw me. Then, I started crying. She apologized for not holding it together and being more ‘professional’. I said “Please… cry. How is it possible to not cry when a child dies? When we don’t yet even know why or how he died. Cry. I’m crying too. Constantly… every day.”
I seem to have this wonderful downer effect on people wherever I go lately.
Baby Surprise seems to be doing just fine. We’ll see her(?) again mid-August for the full anatomy scan and we’ll also then confirm the sex.
My belly seems to be growing fast and getting bigger every day. I've felt her move a few times... very briefly. It will be nice when I'm able to start feeling her more regularly... as that constant movement seems to be reassurance that things are ok.
Life is beyond crazy for me right now.
Here I sit… writing about this new little life growing inside of me. And, I should be ecstatic and celebrating and thinking about baby names and planning where she’ll sleep, etc. But, all I can think about… all day, every day… is Matteo. All I dream about at night is Matteo.
It’s not that I don’t want to think about Baby Surprise. It’s more or less that my mind is completely and beyond preoccupied with Matt. I seem to have trouble planning much of anything lately… because something is just constantly missing.
How is it possible that I will be celebrating the life of this new little one… 6 months after the death of my dear sweet Matteo? How is it not complete torture that her due date is 3 days after the twins would have turned 2 years old?
Is it crazy that I hope she looks like Matteo? Is it crazy that I hope she has Matt’s eyes, his hair, his golden sun-kissed skin color? Gabby and Rocco look so similar… Matt had his own, fabulous look.
If this little baby comes out looking like Matteo, I swear... it would be like a giant 'sign' from our little guy that he's still with us.
At 12 weeks... it's kind of hard to tell who she might look
like:
We weren’t trying to get pregnant. We weren’t expecting it. It was a total surprise... which made the news tad bit overwhelming. I think I shook for a full day and a half after taking the home pregnancy test.
Not many people knew of our news… a handful of people knew. It was like our fun little secret.
On July 2nd, two and a half days before Matteo died, I had my first trimester ultrasound at just over 12 weeks. Baby Surprise was looking good. Healthy heart beat and quite the wiggler. Dr. C predicted with 90% certainty that Baby Surprise was going to be a girl. A sweet baby girl. She is the same physician who predicted the twins were both boys at the same point in my pregnancy two years ago.
I couldn’t wait to tell Dan. I was suddenly so excited. No matter how crazy our lives would soon be… it was going to be awesome. We were going to have two girls and two boys… we would be a family of six in just six short months. How shocking and crazy… but how wonderfully perfect at the same time.
Two and a half days later. Our world came crashing down on us. And, I mean CRASHING. Crashing and slamming.
Now, everything is so NOT perfect. Matter of fact, everything is light years away from ever being perfect again. Our family will always be wonderful… but it will never again be perfect. We now have a huge, gaping hole in our family. Forever.
I met with my OB doctor at 16 weeks for a regular appointment that was scheduled before Matteo died. However, Dr. C knew that Matteo died because I’ve had to discuss my health with her on the phone ever since. She started crying when she saw me. Then, I started crying. She apologized for not holding it together and being more ‘professional’. I said “Please… cry. How is it possible to not cry when a child dies? When we don’t yet even know why or how he died. Cry. I’m crying too. Constantly… every day.”
I seem to have this wonderful downer effect on people wherever I go lately.
Baby Surprise seems to be doing just fine. We’ll see her(?) again mid-August for the full anatomy scan and we’ll also then confirm the sex.
My belly seems to be growing fast and getting bigger every day. I've felt her move a few times... very briefly. It will be nice when I'm able to start feeling her more regularly... as that constant movement seems to be reassurance that things are ok.
Life is beyond crazy for me right now.
Here I sit… writing about this new little life growing inside of me. And, I should be ecstatic and celebrating and thinking about baby names and planning where she’ll sleep, etc. But, all I can think about… all day, every day… is Matteo. All I dream about at night is Matteo.
It’s not that I don’t want to think about Baby Surprise. It’s more or less that my mind is completely and beyond preoccupied with Matt. I seem to have trouble planning much of anything lately… because something is just constantly missing.
How is it possible that I will be celebrating the life of this new little one… 6 months after the death of my dear sweet Matteo? How is it not complete torture that her due date is 3 days after the twins would have turned 2 years old?
Is it crazy that I hope she looks like Matteo? Is it crazy that I hope she has Matt’s eyes, his hair, his golden sun-kissed skin color? Gabby and Rocco look so similar… Matt had his own, fabulous look.
If this little baby comes out looking like Matteo, I swear... it would be like a giant 'sign' from our little guy that he's still with us.
At 12 weeks... it's kind of hard to tell who she might look
like:
7/27/09
Seeking greater opinions...
I took Rocco in for an appointment on Friday with a pediatric cardiologist. I had to do it. Not yet knowing why Matteo died brings us so much worry. I needed to have Rocco's heart tested and for someone to give me the slightest confirmation that the same thing is not going to happen to Rocco.
The appointment was difficult, but I absolutely loved the physician.
I had to tell her why I was there. That my other baby just died... Rocco's twin. That we didn't know why he died... but he died in his sleep. She was so kind. She listened to me. I cried and tried to explain every detail of their health history over the past 18 months while fighting tears. I brought documentation of medications they had been on, dates, etc. She clearly felt bad. She asked a lot of questions. I asked her what heart-related problems could have allowed Matteo to die on us in his sleep. She explained a few possible causes.
She spent at least a half hour talking with us prior to the tests and another 20 after all the tests. She spent at least 45 minutes taking photos of Rocco's heart via ultrasound. She also ran another test where he was hooked up to numerous monitors via stickies all over his chest, arms and legs. All of the tests were beyond challenging as we were doing anything possible to get Rocco to sit still and not rip all the stickies off his body. Matteo would have sat there like a good little guy. He wouldn't have liked the stickers and he probably would have fought those a little. But, he would have sat there and allowed me to soothe him.
The test results came back great. Rocco's heart function is normal and good. The doctor said that depending on whether or not Matteo's cause of death ends up being a genetic abnormality of the heart, then we would also need to run a few more blood tests on Rocco.
After completeing this appointment, I sent a long email to two physicians who I've worked with on numerous occasions. Two physicians who are highly respected in the world of pediatric cardiology. I needed their opinions on why Matteo would have died, if in-fact he did die due to a heart related issue.
I wasn't sure I'd hear back from them. They are BEYOND busy and have crazy, crazy schedules. But, they both emailed me back within three hours of my email. Part of me was shocked at how quickly they both responded. And, part of me knew they would... because I always sensed their compassion. Once again, I found myself feeling so grateful for being a part of this wonderful and well-respected institution.
Below is what they had to say (personal info x'd out).
Jodi:
I am so sorry for your loss. I know that you must feel guilty for not checking him more often, but from the sounds of this, you did all the right things and should not feel in any way responsible.
There are a few cardiac diseases that could possibly have caused sudden death in this situation. One is an abnormal heart rhythm, some of which can be due to a genetic mutation. These mutations can be tested for if a sample of tissue can be saved by the coroner's office for DNA analysis. Second, there is the possibility that your son developed an infection of the heart known as myocarditis. This could have been responsible for the fevers, but it could also have occurred due to the same virus that causes the Hand-Foot-Mouth disease back in May. Sometimes these viral infections of the heart can be subclinical for months before a child develops any symptoms. The microscopic sections from the autopsy study would definitately show this. Lastly, there is a rare congenital malformation called anamolous left coronary artery and this should be seen on the general part of the autopsy. You can ask the coroner whether he/she has determined the origins of the coronary arteries, which is pretty routine.
Once you have the final results of the autopsy, if you wish I would be willing to review them with you and help to determine whether there is anything else worth doing, and whether other tests are required for the other boy.
XXX
xxxxxx xxxxxxxxx, M.D., Chief, Division of Pediatric Cardiology
Lucile Packard Children's Hospital at Stanford
Professor of Pediatrics
Stanford University
Dear Jodi,
I am very sorry for what has happened and if there is anything I can do, please don't hesitate to call. Dr. xxxxxxxxx has already mentioned the more common causes of sudden death related to the heart and is correct about what the studies and coroner can do to evaluate for the coronary abnormality. I know Dr. xxx (who examined Rocco on Friday) and believe that she is a good pediatric cardiologist. If you have questions regarding her echocardiographic evaluation, however, I would be happy to help you, including re-reviewing her study.
We as parents and spouses always feel a sense of "what could I have done differently" but I truly believe that you and your husband did nothing wrong. Uncommon things happen commonly and what you have described sounds very uncommon. I know saying these things don't take the pain or guilt away but it is true. Please let me know if I can be of any help now or in the future. If you need to talk to someone, know that I am always available and you can page me at anytime (xxx-xxx-xxxx).
Sincerely,
xxxxx
xxxxxxxx xxxx, M.D.
Director, Pediatric Heart Transplant Program
Lucile Packard Children's Hospital at Stanford
Associate Professor of Pediatrics
Stanford University
The appointment was difficult, but I absolutely loved the physician.
I had to tell her why I was there. That my other baby just died... Rocco's twin. That we didn't know why he died... but he died in his sleep. She was so kind. She listened to me. I cried and tried to explain every detail of their health history over the past 18 months while fighting tears. I brought documentation of medications they had been on, dates, etc. She clearly felt bad. She asked a lot of questions. I asked her what heart-related problems could have allowed Matteo to die on us in his sleep. She explained a few possible causes.
She spent at least a half hour talking with us prior to the tests and another 20 after all the tests. She spent at least 45 minutes taking photos of Rocco's heart via ultrasound. She also ran another test where he was hooked up to numerous monitors via stickies all over his chest, arms and legs. All of the tests were beyond challenging as we were doing anything possible to get Rocco to sit still and not rip all the stickies off his body. Matteo would have sat there like a good little guy. He wouldn't have liked the stickers and he probably would have fought those a little. But, he would have sat there and allowed me to soothe him.
The test results came back great. Rocco's heart function is normal and good. The doctor said that depending on whether or not Matteo's cause of death ends up being a genetic abnormality of the heart, then we would also need to run a few more blood tests on Rocco.
After completeing this appointment, I sent a long email to two physicians who I've worked with on numerous occasions. Two physicians who are highly respected in the world of pediatric cardiology. I needed their opinions on why Matteo would have died, if in-fact he did die due to a heart related issue.
I wasn't sure I'd hear back from them. They are BEYOND busy and have crazy, crazy schedules. But, they both emailed me back within three hours of my email. Part of me was shocked at how quickly they both responded. And, part of me knew they would... because I always sensed their compassion. Once again, I found myself feeling so grateful for being a part of this wonderful and well-respected institution.
Below is what they had to say (personal info x'd out).
Jodi:
I am so sorry for your loss. I know that you must feel guilty for not checking him more often, but from the sounds of this, you did all the right things and should not feel in any way responsible.
There are a few cardiac diseases that could possibly have caused sudden death in this situation. One is an abnormal heart rhythm, some of which can be due to a genetic mutation. These mutations can be tested for if a sample of tissue can be saved by the coroner's office for DNA analysis. Second, there is the possibility that your son developed an infection of the heart known as myocarditis. This could have been responsible for the fevers, but it could also have occurred due to the same virus that causes the Hand-Foot-Mouth disease back in May. Sometimes these viral infections of the heart can be subclinical for months before a child develops any symptoms. The microscopic sections from the autopsy study would definitately show this. Lastly, there is a rare congenital malformation called anamolous left coronary artery and this should be seen on the general part of the autopsy. You can ask the coroner whether he/she has determined the origins of the coronary arteries, which is pretty routine.
Once you have the final results of the autopsy, if you wish I would be willing to review them with you and help to determine whether there is anything else worth doing, and whether other tests are required for the other boy.
XXX
xxxxxx xxxxxxxxx, M.D., Chief, Division of Pediatric Cardiology
Lucile Packard Children's Hospital at Stanford
Professor of Pediatrics
Stanford University
Dear Jodi,
I am very sorry for what has happened and if there is anything I can do, please don't hesitate to call. Dr. xxxxxxxxx has already mentioned the more common causes of sudden death related to the heart and is correct about what the studies and coroner can do to evaluate for the coronary abnormality. I know Dr. xxx (who examined Rocco on Friday) and believe that she is a good pediatric cardiologist. If you have questions regarding her echocardiographic evaluation, however, I would be happy to help you, including re-reviewing her study.
We as parents and spouses always feel a sense of "what could I have done differently" but I truly believe that you and your husband did nothing wrong. Uncommon things happen commonly and what you have described sounds very uncommon. I know saying these things don't take the pain or guilt away but it is true. Please let me know if I can be of any help now or in the future. If you need to talk to someone, know that I am always available and you can page me at anytime (xxx-xxx-xxxx).
Sincerely,
xxxxx
xxxxxxxx xxxx, M.D.
Director, Pediatric Heart Transplant Program
Lucile Packard Children's Hospital at Stanford
Associate Professor of Pediatrics
Stanford University
7/26/09
3 Weeks
Here I sit... three plus weeks after Matteo died. And, all I can do is cry. My head hurts from crying. My heart feels heavy. My eyes are sore and red. And, I'm just sad.I miss him SO MUCH. SO. MUCH.
It's quite possible that I miss him more today than I did yesterday, than I did the day before... and the day before that.
People tell me... time heals. I'm sorry... but f*&# that. Time hasn't healed crap.
I have not held him in over three weeks. THREE WHOLE WEEKS. Prior to our March 2009 trip to Mexico (Dan, Gabby & I)... I had never spent one night away from my boys. And now... I have not smelled Matteo or seen him smile in over THREE WEEKS. I have not heard his voice in over THREE WEEKS. I find myself digging through videos at night and watching them into the wee hours just to hear tidbits of his voice. Angry with myself that I never recorded his most recent laugh... his "No Cocco, no! Cocco, no!" while following Rocco. Angry that we didn't record his silly "crazy eyes" look he'd give people when he wanted to stay in MY arms. I have not run my fingers through his fuzzy curls or snuggled up to him on the sofa in over three weeks. I haven't squeezed his chunky feet, his cute little buns, or loved on my little guy in over three weeks. THREE WEEKS. How the hell does someone deal with this? How do you move on? How? HOW? I don't understand. I don't even want to understand right now.
It's been three weeks of constant reminders. Constant replaying of that horrible, awful morning. And, my mind just continues working throughout the night. If I don't dream about Matteo and my time with him... then I dream about losing something or not being able to find something. And, instantly, when I wake up, Matteo is always the very first thing that pops into my head. If I wake up in the middle of the night, it sometimes takes hours to fall back asleep because my mind doesn't quit replaying everything. Every single horrible thing about this wrong situation. For a brief instant last Friday... in the very first instant I woke up, I felt that Matteo was still here with us. For that brief instant... life could not have been more perfect. And, then quicker than quick... it was all wrong and awful again.
Last night, I had to tackle another reminder of our awful tragedy. I decided I was going to reach into the coroner's bag for the second time since getting it back last week. The bag contained the clothes Matteo wore the night he died, and the two blankets I wrapped him in that awful morning. I opened it for the first time last week... and I sobbed on Dan's shoulder. He held me. And, I just sobbed. It was a bag full of flashbacks that I hadn't yet encountered prior to opening the bag. The morning Matteo died... he was so cold... my sweet, snuggly, happy baby boy was dead cold. After the paramedics did what was required... I sat there holding my baby... my cold baby... and cried for Dan to grab blankets to wrap him in... he was so cold and I was going to do whatever it took to keep him warm. And, now he had vomit on his shirt from the CPR attempts. I just wanted to wrap him up, hold him and disappear away with him. My poor sweet baby was COLD. He just had a fever... not even 12 hours prior... and there I was holding him, dead cold. His shirt was clean when I put him to bed. He hadn't puked in months. And now he had vomit on his shirt. I wrapped him in two fleece blankets and I held him. I sobbed on him.
So, I opened the coroner's bag for the second and last time last night. I smelled his vomit-stained shirt. I don't know why. Maybe to not forget? Maybe so I could remember with more certainty the smells that linger in my head from that awful morning? I don't know. But, I cried and felt the pain of our loss so heavy. Yet again. I took time in examining his shirt and his shorts. All the details. All the stains. I wanted to see everything, smell everything... one last time from how it was that awful morning. That horrific morning.
Then, exactly three weeks after Matteo's death, I threw the outfit my poor sweet baby died in... the last clothes he wore while living... into the washing machine. Soon to be added to the growing pile of Matteo-related things I have been gathering. Once I find the perfect chest... I'll place everything in there. And, I'll open it whenever I need to try and remember and be close to Matteo.
Three weeks.
Three weeks of not really having a desire to do anything in particular but spend time with my kids and husband. Three weeks of phone calls to return, emails to respond to, people to get back to... and no urge to do any of it.
Three weeks of people telling me... "Oh, this or that must be comforting." Three weeks of me looking at them blankly or not responding... and letting THEM think it's comforting. Me knowing that absolutely nothing... nothing is comforting right now.
Three weeks of knowing true sadness like I have never known it before. Three weeks of not being "ok". Three weeks of not knowing why he died. Three weeks of feeling completely vulnerable to death... like at any instant, it could sweep right back into my house and strike again at whatever moment it pleases.
The three most heart-wrenching weeks of my life.
So... this is what life is like 3 weeks after losing my sweet, soon-to-be 18 month old child.
A Moment...
I had a moment yesterday.
Anyone who knows me knows my stress-reliever and daily medicine is running. It's my Jodi-time.
But, I'm pregnant right now. So, I haven't been running as much as I normally would. And, that's been tough. The time in my life when I need to run the most... and I can't do it.
I ran the night I put Matteo down to sleep for the last time. It was dark out. It was the 4th of July. Fireworks were going off and I just let my mind wander as I watched the sky. I was worried about Matteo. Hoping he'd wake up in the morning and be feeling all better again. The temp had cooled a lot and it was great to be out in the fresh air. All seemed to be ok... my little guys were in bed and Gabby was curled up with her daddy on the sofa.
Now I would do anything to turn back the clock. I wish I would have let Matteo just sleep in my arms that night. Would it have changed things... I don't know. I just wish...
After Matteo died... it took me two weeks to get out on a run again. Mostly, because I just didn't have the energy. I wasn't eating. I wasn't sleeping. Nothing in our world was right. Everything was wrong. And, everthing still is. Just wrong and broken.
I think I've now run about 5 times since Matteo died. And, each time I just let myself cry.
Back in April... one of my very dear friends and my running buddy, Kathleen, and I were trying to plan our next race. We had just finished the Santa Cruz half-marathon and we were working on nailing down our next full marathon... with the hopes of qualifing for the Boston Marathon. We would need to shave less than 20 minutes off our time... and we thought it was doable. Not to mention, she had actually missed BQ time about 5 years ago on the San Francisco marathon course by 3 minutes. It was a goal within reach for sure.
Then... surprise... I got pregnant. And, I had to dog out on her.
Yesterday, the San Francisco marathon kicked off at 5:30am, sharp. And, I drove into the city so I could support my friend in reaching her lifetime goal, qualifing for the 2010 Boston Marathon. Afterall, she has been there for me more than I will ever be able to thank her for. This was the very, very least I could do. And, I was so excited and proud... I knew she'd finish in 3:45 or less.
I told her I wanted to run the last mile with her, so I could push her to the end. Quite honestly... as I was walking towards mile 25... I was so unsure as to whether I was going to be able to run with her. I've got a fast-growing belly and the last thing I wanted to do was slow her down.
While waiting for her... I was joined by another dear friend who was out of the country when Matteo died. She asked if I was "ok". I said I am never ok. I don't know what "ok" is anymore. I wasn't going to cry that morning. Not there at the race. But, I did. And there we were, cheering people on as they hit the 25th mile, and crying... for Matteo... and for how life is so flipping unfair sometimes.
Eventually, I saw Kathleen coming. There was less than a mile left to run with her. I got so excited and I popped out onto the race course. The first thing she said was "I have 7 minutes left." I said "that's not a problem because we'll be at the finish line in 4." And, I ran with her. I pushed her. I don't know how but I kept myself just a tad bit in front of her and repeatedly told her she can do it, she's almost there. I went into coach mode... and told her to push her shoulders back and pick her feet up... that she could do this. She was almost there! I was so proud of her. Then, I found myself at a loss for words as we got closer to the finish line... and there was only one thing going through my mind. So I said the ONE thing that kept going through my mind, even while I was tossing out all the other crap. I said "YOU HAVE TO DO THIS FOR MATTEO! Just do it for Matt." And she did. She did it. She did it for herself, her girls, her husband, her family... and I swear... she did it for Matteo too. I was so proud of her. I was happy and elated. Truly happy.
Right then and there... I experienced a moment of happiness... for something other than my two living children... for the first time in over three weeks.
So thank you, Kathleen... for letting me be a part of your success. Your victory. Your lifelong goal. And, thank you for letting me be a part of your happiness yesterday.
Anyone who knows me knows my stress-reliever and daily medicine is running. It's my Jodi-time.
But, I'm pregnant right now. So, I haven't been running as much as I normally would. And, that's been tough. The time in my life when I need to run the most... and I can't do it.
I ran the night I put Matteo down to sleep for the last time. It was dark out. It was the 4th of July. Fireworks were going off and I just let my mind wander as I watched the sky. I was worried about Matteo. Hoping he'd wake up in the morning and be feeling all better again. The temp had cooled a lot and it was great to be out in the fresh air. All seemed to be ok... my little guys were in bed and Gabby was curled up with her daddy on the sofa.
Now I would do anything to turn back the clock. I wish I would have let Matteo just sleep in my arms that night. Would it have changed things... I don't know. I just wish...
After Matteo died... it took me two weeks to get out on a run again. Mostly, because I just didn't have the energy. I wasn't eating. I wasn't sleeping. Nothing in our world was right. Everything was wrong. And, everthing still is. Just wrong and broken.
I think I've now run about 5 times since Matteo died. And, each time I just let myself cry.
Back in April... one of my very dear friends and my running buddy, Kathleen, and I were trying to plan our next race. We had just finished the Santa Cruz half-marathon and we were working on nailing down our next full marathon... with the hopes of qualifing for the Boston Marathon. We would need to shave less than 20 minutes off our time... and we thought it was doable. Not to mention, she had actually missed BQ time about 5 years ago on the San Francisco marathon course by 3 minutes. It was a goal within reach for sure.
Then... surprise... I got pregnant. And, I had to dog out on her.
Yesterday, the San Francisco marathon kicked off at 5:30am, sharp. And, I drove into the city so I could support my friend in reaching her lifetime goal, qualifing for the 2010 Boston Marathon. Afterall, she has been there for me more than I will ever be able to thank her for. This was the very, very least I could do. And, I was so excited and proud... I knew she'd finish in 3:45 or less.
I told her I wanted to run the last mile with her, so I could push her to the end. Quite honestly... as I was walking towards mile 25... I was so unsure as to whether I was going to be able to run with her. I've got a fast-growing belly and the last thing I wanted to do was slow her down.
While waiting for her... I was joined by another dear friend who was out of the country when Matteo died. She asked if I was "ok". I said I am never ok. I don't know what "ok" is anymore. I wasn't going to cry that morning. Not there at the race. But, I did. And there we were, cheering people on as they hit the 25th mile, and crying... for Matteo... and for how life is so flipping unfair sometimes.
Eventually, I saw Kathleen coming. There was less than a mile left to run with her. I got so excited and I popped out onto the race course. The first thing she said was "I have 7 minutes left." I said "that's not a problem because we'll be at the finish line in 4." And, I ran with her. I pushed her. I don't know how but I kept myself just a tad bit in front of her and repeatedly told her she can do it, she's almost there. I went into coach mode... and told her to push her shoulders back and pick her feet up... that she could do this. She was almost there! I was so proud of her. Then, I found myself at a loss for words as we got closer to the finish line... and there was only one thing going through my mind. So I said the ONE thing that kept going through my mind, even while I was tossing out all the other crap. I said "YOU HAVE TO DO THIS FOR MATTEO! Just do it for Matt." And she did. She did it. She did it for herself, her girls, her husband, her family... and I swear... she did it for Matteo too. I was so proud of her. I was happy and elated. Truly happy.
Right then and there... I experienced a moment of happiness... for something other than my two living children... for the first time in over three weeks.
So thank you, Kathleen... for letting me be a part of your success. Your victory. Your lifelong goal. And, thank you for letting me be a part of your happiness yesterday.
7/22/09
Losing a twin... is it doubly painful?
I sometimes find myself wondering if losing a twin/multiple baby makes the pain even more painful. Granted... I don't know a different type of loss. Just my own situation. And, of course... it's pure hell and painful beyond words.
Every minute of every day, we have Rocco... a little reminder of Matteo. Playing with us, teasing us, and running around being curious. It's impossible not to look at him and immediately think of Matteo. Afterall, they did EVERYTHING together. EVERYTHING. Never spent a day apart. Ever.
Twins are so interesting. And, since we have had the opportunity to experience both a singleton and multiples... we know the comparisons are incredible. Twins are more socially advanced in so many ways... afterall, every single waking minute of every day, they are having to learn things like sharing toys and cooperation (usually when getting into mischief of trouble). They sleep together for months from the moment they come out of the womb... and one, or both, always has a hand on the others face or they hold hands. It's amazing to look back at the photos of them sleeping as infants. Always, always touching each other. Then they begin to grow up and they start mimicing each other. A lot. Maybe it's screaming or trying a new sound or a word. Sometimes they see the other try a new food and the other immediately begins screaming/asking for the new food too. One might do something dangerous that they know they shouldn't be doing (Rocco). And, the other would be sure to follow fast (Matteo). They've got their own little communication between the two of them. They will say things to each other... half the time, not understandable to us at this point... and then they would be off to the races to get whatever it was they discussed. On a number of occasions, if the two of them were trapped in a doctor's office (which was so frequent)... Rocco would open the door and Matteo would start saying "GO, GO, GO!" while running out after his brother. It was as if they knew they had to go FAST... and had limited time before we busted them. It was a game to them... and the joke was on us. Oh how we loved the joke being on us... it was always entertaining. Everything was teamwork. Everything. Matteo was also becoming our little Rocco-alarm... he would witness Rocco doing something naughty and Matt would yell "No, Cocco no! Cocco no!" while waving his finger in the air and then he'd look at us, proud... as if to say "yeah mommy/daddy... I'm telling him he's being bad!" I could go on and on...
Dan and I REALLY, really, really miss the twin experience right now. A LOT. Ugh... it's like an additional empty hole in our hearts. Not as big or significant as Matteo not being with us. I think it's just that extra burn... the rotten icing on the cake of death.
Maybe it's because now we also look at Rocco each and every day and wonder if Matteo would have also said that new word today. We see Rocco hit the ball repeatedly off the T now... and wonder... hmmm... would Matteo have been doing that too? Or would he have still just preferred to catch.
Rocco seems to have grown a lot in the past week... physically and socially. Would Matteo have also put on some extra weight recently? Gotten a little taller? I can't help but think that every day for the rest of my life, I won't look at Rocco and instantly also think of Matteo EACH and EVERY time I see him... and just wonder. Wonder. Wonder. Wonder.
Socially... Rocco has changed SO much in the past week. His interactions with Gabby have increased significantly. His vocabulary has increased significantly... and he shows much more interest in learning words that we're speaking... not just his "twin talk" with his buddy that is no longer here to share in his daily adventures. Dan and I have felt that Rocco is also much more communicative and demanding of us. If he wants us to go somewhere with him.... he will physically move and point us in that direction... and then pull us over. Or, if he wants me to hold him, he will physically grab my legs, turn me to face him and hold up his arms. Prior to Matteo's death... if I had one baby at my leg wanting to be held, I most often had two. And, it was more of a screaming match between the two of them as to who would be picked up first. 95% of the time, I would pick them both up... at exactly the same time and hold them both like they were my little bear cubs. Totally proud momma! So proud of my BOYS! I would often look at them and wonder/dream about how handsome and charming they would both be someday... both so different and fabulous. I SO MISS my other little bear cub. Where IS my little baby? Where is he...
Having TWINS is just such a different experience. So demanding. So hard. But, so unbelieveably rewarding and fun. Especially as they get older and are interacting and playing and become the best of little buddies.
I think we'll also really miss hearing "the Martino brothers"... as people often referred to them as our "little mobsters" or the "Martino Mafia"... just based on their Italian names. I recall that when one of Dan's friends heard what we named them.... his first comment was "Dang. I REALLY hope my kid never bumps into your boys in a dark alley with his milk money someday."
Oh... how we already miss the thought of all the future funny little stories.
They were going to back each other up in life. They were going to be there for each other, through and through. They would defend and honor each other... even if they had their own little clashes. Rocco was going to be the pitcher and Matteo was going to be the catcher. Dan and I had talked a MILLION times how cute it would be to someday see the two of them in their little league outfits. The little Martino boys. They were going to gang up on their sister and tease her and tickle her. They were going to play practical jokes together on mommy, daddy and Gabby. They were going to have bunkbeds. They were going to stay up late and read comic books past their bedtime with flashlights... and switch who had the top or bottom bunk every other week. Matteo was going to be the studious one... because his concentration level was so high. He was going to be brilliant. Rocco would be the silly, goofy, fun one... maybe a little more of the class clown. Rocco would be the heart breaker and Matteo would get his heart broken... because he just loved SO much and really relied upon his close family relationships. They were complete opposites. Total opposites in every possible way. And, together, they were never EVER going to let their big sister go on a date with a looser. Never! They were going to be our little spies. Daddy's little helpers in protecting the family and the house.
Our little dudes. Brothers. Twins.
I think Rocco is already forgetting. I think Matteo is already just becoming a picture to him that he sees everywhere in our house right now. He will still see Matteo's picture and say "buddy". But... does he KNOW HOW MUCH they were buddies? Does he remember?
It all hurts. It hurts a lot. It hurts BAD.
In the past two weeks... Rocco seems to have picked up some of the qualities that Matteo had, but that Rocco never really shared/showed us prior to Matteo's death. Rocco has on numerous occasions now, actually sat in my lap and snuggled for longer than 10 minutes. Prior to Matteo's death... it was difficult to get Rocco to sit for even 30 seconds in someone's lap. Rocco seems to have slowed down some... he seems to take a little more time when doing things. Just like Matteo would have. This in and of itself is very interesting... I'd be interested in reading/learning more about similarities to this in other twin losses, at any age. It's definitely there. There's no making behavioral stuff like this up.
So here we are neck deep in grief. And, for some reason... we seem to also be grieving the loss of Rocco's twin... his lifelong best friend and that whole "buddy" experience.
Matteo's gone. Rocco's twin is gone.
It all just SUCKS so bad.
Every minute of every day, we have Rocco... a little reminder of Matteo. Playing with us, teasing us, and running around being curious. It's impossible not to look at him and immediately think of Matteo. Afterall, they did EVERYTHING together. EVERYTHING. Never spent a day apart. Ever.
Twins are so interesting. And, since we have had the opportunity to experience both a singleton and multiples... we know the comparisons are incredible. Twins are more socially advanced in so many ways... afterall, every single waking minute of every day, they are having to learn things like sharing toys and cooperation (usually when getting into mischief of trouble). They sleep together for months from the moment they come out of the womb... and one, or both, always has a hand on the others face or they hold hands. It's amazing to look back at the photos of them sleeping as infants. Always, always touching each other. Then they begin to grow up and they start mimicing each other. A lot. Maybe it's screaming or trying a new sound or a word. Sometimes they see the other try a new food and the other immediately begins screaming/asking for the new food too. One might do something dangerous that they know they shouldn't be doing (Rocco). And, the other would be sure to follow fast (Matteo). They've got their own little communication between the two of them. They will say things to each other... half the time, not understandable to us at this point... and then they would be off to the races to get whatever it was they discussed. On a number of occasions, if the two of them were trapped in a doctor's office (which was so frequent)... Rocco would open the door and Matteo would start saying "GO, GO, GO!" while running out after his brother. It was as if they knew they had to go FAST... and had limited time before we busted them. It was a game to them... and the joke was on us. Oh how we loved the joke being on us... it was always entertaining. Everything was teamwork. Everything. Matteo was also becoming our little Rocco-alarm... he would witness Rocco doing something naughty and Matt would yell "No, Cocco no! Cocco no!" while waving his finger in the air and then he'd look at us, proud... as if to say "yeah mommy/daddy... I'm telling him he's being bad!" I could go on and on...
Dan and I REALLY, really, really miss the twin experience right now. A LOT. Ugh... it's like an additional empty hole in our hearts. Not as big or significant as Matteo not being with us. I think it's just that extra burn... the rotten icing on the cake of death.
Maybe it's because now we also look at Rocco each and every day and wonder if Matteo would have also said that new word today. We see Rocco hit the ball repeatedly off the T now... and wonder... hmmm... would Matteo have been doing that too? Or would he have still just preferred to catch.
Rocco seems to have grown a lot in the past week... physically and socially. Would Matteo have also put on some extra weight recently? Gotten a little taller? I can't help but think that every day for the rest of my life, I won't look at Rocco and instantly also think of Matteo EACH and EVERY time I see him... and just wonder. Wonder. Wonder. Wonder.
Socially... Rocco has changed SO much in the past week. His interactions with Gabby have increased significantly. His vocabulary has increased significantly... and he shows much more interest in learning words that we're speaking... not just his "twin talk" with his buddy that is no longer here to share in his daily adventures. Dan and I have felt that Rocco is also much more communicative and demanding of us. If he wants us to go somewhere with him.... he will physically move and point us in that direction... and then pull us over. Or, if he wants me to hold him, he will physically grab my legs, turn me to face him and hold up his arms. Prior to Matteo's death... if I had one baby at my leg wanting to be held, I most often had two. And, it was more of a screaming match between the two of them as to who would be picked up first. 95% of the time, I would pick them both up... at exactly the same time and hold them both like they were my little bear cubs. Totally proud momma! So proud of my BOYS! I would often look at them and wonder/dream about how handsome and charming they would both be someday... both so different and fabulous. I SO MISS my other little bear cub. Where IS my little baby? Where is he...
Having TWINS is just such a different experience. So demanding. So hard. But, so unbelieveably rewarding and fun. Especially as they get older and are interacting and playing and become the best of little buddies.
I think we'll also really miss hearing "the Martino brothers"... as people often referred to them as our "little mobsters" or the "Martino Mafia"... just based on their Italian names. I recall that when one of Dan's friends heard what we named them.... his first comment was "Dang. I REALLY hope my kid never bumps into your boys in a dark alley with his milk money someday."
Oh... how we already miss the thought of all the future funny little stories.
They were going to back each other up in life. They were going to be there for each other, through and through. They would defend and honor each other... even if they had their own little clashes. Rocco was going to be the pitcher and Matteo was going to be the catcher. Dan and I had talked a MILLION times how cute it would be to someday see the two of them in their little league outfits. The little Martino boys. They were going to gang up on their sister and tease her and tickle her. They were going to play practical jokes together on mommy, daddy and Gabby. They were going to have bunkbeds. They were going to stay up late and read comic books past their bedtime with flashlights... and switch who had the top or bottom bunk every other week. Matteo was going to be the studious one... because his concentration level was so high. He was going to be brilliant. Rocco would be the silly, goofy, fun one... maybe a little more of the class clown. Rocco would be the heart breaker and Matteo would get his heart broken... because he just loved SO much and really relied upon his close family relationships. They were complete opposites. Total opposites in every possible way. And, together, they were never EVER going to let their big sister go on a date with a looser. Never! They were going to be our little spies. Daddy's little helpers in protecting the family and the house.
Our little dudes. Brothers. Twins.
I think Rocco is already forgetting. I think Matteo is already just becoming a picture to him that he sees everywhere in our house right now. He will still see Matteo's picture and say "buddy". But... does he KNOW HOW MUCH they were buddies? Does he remember?
It all hurts. It hurts a lot. It hurts BAD.
In the past two weeks... Rocco seems to have picked up some of the qualities that Matteo had, but that Rocco never really shared/showed us prior to Matteo's death. Rocco has on numerous occasions now, actually sat in my lap and snuggled for longer than 10 minutes. Prior to Matteo's death... it was difficult to get Rocco to sit for even 30 seconds in someone's lap. Rocco seems to have slowed down some... he seems to take a little more time when doing things. Just like Matteo would have. This in and of itself is very interesting... I'd be interested in reading/learning more about similarities to this in other twin losses, at any age. It's definitely there. There's no making behavioral stuff like this up.
So here we are neck deep in grief. And, for some reason... we seem to also be grieving the loss of Rocco's twin... his lifelong best friend and that whole "buddy" experience.
Matteo's gone. Rocco's twin is gone.
It all just SUCKS so bad.
7/19/09
And... life keeps moving forward.
Everything right now seems to be measured in days since Matteo died. Or, days before Matteo died. Yesterday marked two weeks since he died. I can't seem to remember what day it is at any given moment lately. But, I can always tell you the exact number of days since my baby died.
Time isn't the only challenging factor we've faced in the past 15 days... awkward moments seem to be another. I need to get a better handle on being comfortable with and handling awkward moments. It's almost like I have an ability to anticipate which situations will be awkward and which won't.
For example, I had been meaning to schedule a hair appointment for months. But, for a million time-related reasons, never got around to it. I had time last week... so I finally scheduled and had my haircut.
In the days leading up to it... I was dreading it. Not the haircut itself... I was dreading the conversation that I knew was going to happen with my new hair stylist. I had only been to her once prior to this appointment.
I was DREADING not being able to avoid the topic that has haunted me every minute of every day for the past 15 days... with a near-stranger. My sweet baby, Matteo. Gone. Forever.
I was about to be stuck in a chair... with someone who would want to chit chat and ask me a million questions. Don't get me wrong... she's a very nice girl... early twenties. Just no idea what she would be in for with me that day. I would be without a box of kleenex nearby. There would be no chance of me being able to just get up and leave when things got uncomfortable because she'd have a scissors in one hand, and my hair in the other. And because it had taken me so long to get my butt in for the hair appt in the first place... there was no way in hell I was going to be leaving with a half-cut head of hair.
So many thoughts were spinning through my head when "prepping" myself for this appointment. What am I going to do when she starts asking me about my kids? Will she remember I have kids? Should I just pretend to be someone I'm not so I can avoid the discussion all-together? Will she remember I'm married? I could change my name in the appt book and she'll think I'm a new client! I could be XX XX from XX... single, no kids... and completely avoid the discussion.
But I knew in my heart... I couldn't pretend to be someone else. That's not me. I don't know a different life. I only know what I know... and what I live and breathe right now.
I wondered how long it would take for the topic of kids to come up. I thought it would probably come up in the first 15 minutes... probably closer to the 15 minute mark.
Hair Stylist: "Ok, so what would you like to do today?"
Me: "Let's cut at least 2 inches off the bottom... layer it.... thin it out... just do some magic."
Hair Stylist: "Alright - not a problem. Let's go back and wash your hair. So... how has your summer been? I haven't seen you in a while. You must be busy with the kids... how many kids do you have again?"
Me: Pause... silence... deep breath... "Well, yeah... the summer has been busy. The kids definitely keep us busy... a little less busy right now which is hard. I have 3 kids. A 3 year old, two 18 month old boys... but one of my 18 month old boys died recently. He died in his sleep. We don't yet know why he died but we're hoping to get answers soon."
ROOM GOES SILENT.
Hair Stylist: "OH! I am soooooo sorry... I can't imagine. I'm so sorry." Silence.
Awkward silence. More awkward silence.
Hair Stylist: "Yeah... I've had a busy summer too... I'm moving on August 1st... blah, blah, blah."
I suddenly felt more comfortable that she changed the subject and the focus to herself. She continued to talk about her move. I acted interested... but all I could do was think about Matt. I saw his sweet face and smile... I tried to replay and hear his voice in my head. All the things that I don't want to forget... but fear I will slowly forget someday. I just let my mind wander in "Matt-world" while this near-stranger continued talking.
But, I made it through the moment I was dreading. I answered her question. I stunned the room. I stopped conversation just like that. But, most importantly, I said what I wanted to say. I have three kids. One died recently. Matteo will never, ever be left out of the "kid count". Ever. He will always be my child. He will always be with me. He will not be forgotten. I won't let it happen. I answered her questions with dignity and respect for my sweet baby.
The next day... I brought Gabby to gymnastics for a makeup class. Some of the mommies from her regular class were also there for a makeup class. And, there were a few other mommies there as well who I did not know. The mommies from the regular class knew about Matteo's death. They're a really great group of mom's. Two of whom actually took the time and were able to come to Matt's funeral... even after only knowing us from gymnastics. I'm still amazed by that.
Anyway, one of the mom's who I've gotten to know but hadn't seen for a few weeks asked something about Gabby... maybe it was if she was extra tired or hot. I really can't remember exactly. Anyway... I replied with "Well, actually... one of her baby twin brothers died in his sleep on July 5th... so she's having a bit of a hard time focusing lately."
She immediately felt awful. She looked concerned. I could see tears in her eyes and a true look of pain and shock. She grabbed my arm and didn't know what to say but gave me the look that only a mom could give... that I am living her worst nightmare.
Sadly, I appreciate "the look". Afterall... I am... I am living every mom's worst nightmare. Every. Single. Day. Living the nightmare. I live it minute to minute. I wonder where the hell my child is and why he isn't here. I feel like someone should be bringing him back to me...that maybe it's just a matter of time. I wonder why he isn't coming back... where the hell did he go? And I wonder constantly why things like this happen to sweet angel babies, like Matteo.
Anyway, in less than 30 seconds... four mom's around me are crying. All had tears. All saying how they can't imagine. All not knowing the pain... but somehow saying comforting things even though I'm sure they had no idea what to say. There we were talking about Matteo... having a regular conversation, not avoiding the subject, and letting the conversation ride itself out. With tears. And, without tears. The crazy part is that this wasn't awkward for me. And oddly enough, I didn't dread the conversation with this group of ladies. I knew it was going to happen... but I didn't fear it. Maybe because I felt their support already. Maybe because they were mom's and we shared a common thread. I don't know.
Life is crazy. It's a wild ride. I didn't know how much of a wild ride it was until 15 days ago. I don't think anyone... that ANYONE... seriously... can imagine or even fully try to relate to the pain or feelings we experience on a daily basis. I don't even hope for them to do so. I know there are people out there who can relate to losing a child... and I am so sorry for that. I would never wish for anyone to know this pain. Perhaps they lost their child at a different age, most likely a different story or type of loss. I know with my whole heart that I can never fully know their pain. And, I don't expect anyone to understand what we're going through either. I mean... how COULD someone? You just can't. And, we know that. We understand.
Sometimes I will talk about Matteo. Sometimes I won't. Maybe I will tell you a story about him or a great memory. Maybe you'll tell me a story or memory of you and your children. Maybe you'll tell me a crazy story from your recent trip to the grocery store, a vacation, a night out, etc. And, I'll be interested and will listen to every last detail intently. Maybe you'll see me laughing. Maybe you'll see me crying. You might catch me at a moment where I am truly happy and having fun or enjoying a moment of life. And, that's ok... because in that moment... I probably am happy. But... maybe you'll call me and I won't answer the phone. Maybe I'm avoiding calls all together for that moment in time. Maybe I'm curled up in a ball crying... or sobbing like a child and just want to feel and live in that moment. Maybe I just don't "feel" like talking. Maybe I'm spending time with my kids. Maybe I'll answer the phone and will look forward to some interesting news/conversation that you can share with me... taking me out of my nightmare if only for 5 or 10 minutes. I've never been one to chat on the phone much, so don't take it personally. What I'm trying to say is that... some moments are good. And, some moments are so absolutely awful and painful. Neither are predictable.
Unfortunately and fortunately... life DOES move on. Regardless of if we want it to or not. And, we are trying each and every day to keep moving on. To come to grips with the fact that Matteo is gone. Even though it's impossible to believe sometimes... that I will never see or hold him again.
Dan and I do not want to spend every second of every day openly rehashing how sad we are or how horribly Matteo's death has changed our lives. But, we also will never, ever tiptoe around Matteo's name or who he was. We will never avoid him in conversation, nor will we ever want to. We DO still want and need to experience happy moments. We need to have enjoyable conversation. We need moments of laughter and fun. We need it for us, but more importantly... for Gabby, Rocco and baby Surprise. And, I hope that it gets a little easier with each passing day.
Matteo's our little Angel. He's our third child. Always will be. We will always wonder... what he would have looked like, how big he would be, how long his hair would be, what sports he'd enjoy, how smart he'd be, how proud he would make us, how much he would have enjoyed this particular visit to the park, or to the ballpark with his daddy and brother, or how much he liked visits to his Gammy and Papa's house.
We will always wonder. But, we will never forget.
Time isn't the only challenging factor we've faced in the past 15 days... awkward moments seem to be another. I need to get a better handle on being comfortable with and handling awkward moments. It's almost like I have an ability to anticipate which situations will be awkward and which won't.
For example, I had been meaning to schedule a hair appointment for months. But, for a million time-related reasons, never got around to it. I had time last week... so I finally scheduled and had my haircut.
In the days leading up to it... I was dreading it. Not the haircut itself... I was dreading the conversation that I knew was going to happen with my new hair stylist. I had only been to her once prior to this appointment.
I was DREADING not being able to avoid the topic that has haunted me every minute of every day for the past 15 days... with a near-stranger. My sweet baby, Matteo. Gone. Forever.
I was about to be stuck in a chair... with someone who would want to chit chat and ask me a million questions. Don't get me wrong... she's a very nice girl... early twenties. Just no idea what she would be in for with me that day. I would be without a box of kleenex nearby. There would be no chance of me being able to just get up and leave when things got uncomfortable because she'd have a scissors in one hand, and my hair in the other. And because it had taken me so long to get my butt in for the hair appt in the first place... there was no way in hell I was going to be leaving with a half-cut head of hair.
So many thoughts were spinning through my head when "prepping" myself for this appointment. What am I going to do when she starts asking me about my kids? Will she remember I have kids? Should I just pretend to be someone I'm not so I can avoid the discussion all-together? Will she remember I'm married? I could change my name in the appt book and she'll think I'm a new client! I could be XX XX from XX... single, no kids... and completely avoid the discussion.
But I knew in my heart... I couldn't pretend to be someone else. That's not me. I don't know a different life. I only know what I know... and what I live and breathe right now.
I wondered how long it would take for the topic of kids to come up. I thought it would probably come up in the first 15 minutes... probably closer to the 15 minute mark.
Hair Stylist: "Ok, so what would you like to do today?"
Me: "Let's cut at least 2 inches off the bottom... layer it.... thin it out... just do some magic."
Hair Stylist: "Alright - not a problem. Let's go back and wash your hair. So... how has your summer been? I haven't seen you in a while. You must be busy with the kids... how many kids do you have again?"
Me: Pause... silence... deep breath... "Well, yeah... the summer has been busy. The kids definitely keep us busy... a little less busy right now which is hard. I have 3 kids. A 3 year old, two 18 month old boys... but one of my 18 month old boys died recently. He died in his sleep. We don't yet know why he died but we're hoping to get answers soon."
ROOM GOES SILENT.
Hair Stylist: "OH! I am soooooo sorry... I can't imagine. I'm so sorry." Silence.
Awkward silence. More awkward silence.
Hair Stylist: "Yeah... I've had a busy summer too... I'm moving on August 1st... blah, blah, blah."
I suddenly felt more comfortable that she changed the subject and the focus to herself. She continued to talk about her move. I acted interested... but all I could do was think about Matt. I saw his sweet face and smile... I tried to replay and hear his voice in my head. All the things that I don't want to forget... but fear I will slowly forget someday. I just let my mind wander in "Matt-world" while this near-stranger continued talking.
But, I made it through the moment I was dreading. I answered her question. I stunned the room. I stopped conversation just like that. But, most importantly, I said what I wanted to say. I have three kids. One died recently. Matteo will never, ever be left out of the "kid count". Ever. He will always be my child. He will always be with me. He will not be forgotten. I won't let it happen. I answered her questions with dignity and respect for my sweet baby.
The next day... I brought Gabby to gymnastics for a makeup class. Some of the mommies from her regular class were also there for a makeup class. And, there were a few other mommies there as well who I did not know. The mommies from the regular class knew about Matteo's death. They're a really great group of mom's. Two of whom actually took the time and were able to come to Matt's funeral... even after only knowing us from gymnastics. I'm still amazed by that.
Anyway, one of the mom's who I've gotten to know but hadn't seen for a few weeks asked something about Gabby... maybe it was if she was extra tired or hot. I really can't remember exactly. Anyway... I replied with "Well, actually... one of her baby twin brothers died in his sleep on July 5th... so she's having a bit of a hard time focusing lately."
She immediately felt awful. She looked concerned. I could see tears in her eyes and a true look of pain and shock. She grabbed my arm and didn't know what to say but gave me the look that only a mom could give... that I am living her worst nightmare.
Sadly, I appreciate "the look". Afterall... I am... I am living every mom's worst nightmare. Every. Single. Day. Living the nightmare. I live it minute to minute. I wonder where the hell my child is and why he isn't here. I feel like someone should be bringing him back to me...that maybe it's just a matter of time. I wonder why he isn't coming back... where the hell did he go? And I wonder constantly why things like this happen to sweet angel babies, like Matteo.
Anyway, in less than 30 seconds... four mom's around me are crying. All had tears. All saying how they can't imagine. All not knowing the pain... but somehow saying comforting things even though I'm sure they had no idea what to say. There we were talking about Matteo... having a regular conversation, not avoiding the subject, and letting the conversation ride itself out. With tears. And, without tears. The crazy part is that this wasn't awkward for me. And oddly enough, I didn't dread the conversation with this group of ladies. I knew it was going to happen... but I didn't fear it. Maybe because I felt their support already. Maybe because they were mom's and we shared a common thread. I don't know.
Life is crazy. It's a wild ride. I didn't know how much of a wild ride it was until 15 days ago. I don't think anyone... that ANYONE... seriously... can imagine or even fully try to relate to the pain or feelings we experience on a daily basis. I don't even hope for them to do so. I know there are people out there who can relate to losing a child... and I am so sorry for that. I would never wish for anyone to know this pain. Perhaps they lost their child at a different age, most likely a different story or type of loss. I know with my whole heart that I can never fully know their pain. And, I don't expect anyone to understand what we're going through either. I mean... how COULD someone? You just can't. And, we know that. We understand.
Sometimes I will talk about Matteo. Sometimes I won't. Maybe I will tell you a story about him or a great memory. Maybe you'll tell me a story or memory of you and your children. Maybe you'll tell me a crazy story from your recent trip to the grocery store, a vacation, a night out, etc. And, I'll be interested and will listen to every last detail intently. Maybe you'll see me laughing. Maybe you'll see me crying. You might catch me at a moment where I am truly happy and having fun or enjoying a moment of life. And, that's ok... because in that moment... I probably am happy. But... maybe you'll call me and I won't answer the phone. Maybe I'm avoiding calls all together for that moment in time. Maybe I'm curled up in a ball crying... or sobbing like a child and just want to feel and live in that moment. Maybe I just don't "feel" like talking. Maybe I'm spending time with my kids. Maybe I'll answer the phone and will look forward to some interesting news/conversation that you can share with me... taking me out of my nightmare if only for 5 or 10 minutes. I've never been one to chat on the phone much, so don't take it personally. What I'm trying to say is that... some moments are good. And, some moments are so absolutely awful and painful. Neither are predictable.
Unfortunately and fortunately... life DOES move on. Regardless of if we want it to or not. And, we are trying each and every day to keep moving on. To come to grips with the fact that Matteo is gone. Even though it's impossible to believe sometimes... that I will never see or hold him again.
Dan and I do not want to spend every second of every day openly rehashing how sad we are or how horribly Matteo's death has changed our lives. But, we also will never, ever tiptoe around Matteo's name or who he was. We will never avoid him in conversation, nor will we ever want to. We DO still want and need to experience happy moments. We need to have enjoyable conversation. We need moments of laughter and fun. We need it for us, but more importantly... for Gabby, Rocco and baby Surprise. And, I hope that it gets a little easier with each passing day.
Matteo's our little Angel. He's our third child. Always will be. We will always wonder... what he would have looked like, how big he would be, how long his hair would be, what sports he'd enjoy, how smart he'd be, how proud he would make us, how much he would have enjoyed this particular visit to the park, or to the ballpark with his daddy and brother, or how much he liked visits to his Gammy and Papa's house.
We will always wonder. But, we will never forget.
7/17/09
18 Month Well Baby Appointment
Today was supposed to be the twins 18 month well baby appointment.
But, instead of taking two happy, healthy, curious little guys in for their regular checkup. Together, Dan and I brought one. Just one. Never again will we experience the chaos that was involved with bringing two busy little boys… twins… to the doctor. That thought alone makes me want to vomit.
Just before leaving... Dan tells me the story of the friend of a friend who called him today to tell him yet another story of Matteo’s life/death making an impact. Apparently, parent of twins… one twin had a high fever. Parents brought child in to the ER, and the child has been there for several days, and they still don’t know what’s wrong. Of course, I don’t know the additional details/symptoms that they shared with the MD’s. It makes me happy to hear this story, of course. That they weren’t just turned away and told to bring the baby home. It makes me happy to know that because of Matteo, maybe another little life is being saved. But… shortly thereafter, I start processing this a little more in my head. “Dear God… what if I would have brought Matteo in to the ER that night? Would things be different? Would he be ok? Would he be here right now? With us?” I cry. I can’t breathe. I sob. I am physically sick.
We get to the doctor. I’m focused on Matteo and why he died. I asked if a child can die from a fever. No. It would be highly unlikely, he said. Fevers tend to top off… never really getting above 106 or 107. The last fever reading I have on Matteo from July 4th was 104.3 at 8pm. I have the entire day documented with fever readings, what he ate, when we gave him Tylenol, etc. I’m a freak like that. The detectives took photo copies of that paper. I still have it. I have referenced it daily looking for some sort of clues.
The doctor continues to tell me again that one of his thoughts is that Matteo had a very rare side effect from the Hand, Foot & Mouth Disease that the kids all picked up at the San Francisco Zoo over the last weekend in May. He said they were the worst cases he’s seen (and our MD has been practicing for quite a while). Matteo’s was by far the worst. He got hit with it first. And the blisters on his feet were horrible... and you could still see visible signs of the blisters two weeks ago. I even blogged about it. It started with a fever that wiped him out. Matter-of-fact, he was more lethargic and sick for the two days after the trip to the zoo than he was the weekend he died. WAY more sick. He took a 5 hour nap on the second day of his fever and then first started feeling better. We thought that fever/sickness was WAY worse than what hit him two weeks ago. Yes... we thought. Anyway… I was told by both the coroner and our pediatrician that in very rare cases the Coxsackie virus can impact the condition of the heart… causing cardiomyopathy. Or, it can cause changes to the size of veins, etc. Please note - I’m no MD… so don’t quote me on this.
Anyway, Dr. O did Rocco’s checkup. Rocco is in good health. However, I did ask to have a referral to a cardiac specialist to have Rocco’s heart looked at via ultrasound. If it turns out that Matteo’s death was the result of a congenital defect… then I worry about Rocco as well. After all, they were both sick constantly throughout the winter. Every other week we were battling bronchitis, an ear infection, and Rocco ended up also battling RSV and had constant issues with bronchiolitis. Dr. O agreed with me on getting Rocco’s heart checked out in more detail… saying it was a very reasonable request. Ok… good. I’m not going crazy. I’m not yet a total psycho mommy. But, I’m sure that’s just around the corner.
How ironic is it that I mentioned to a handful of people that I felt like there was more behind the boys always being sick? Even crazier is that I worried more about Rocco’s health. Matteo always seemed like the healthier of the two to me...maybe just because he didn’t get RSV and battle bronchiolitis as often as Rocco did. I don’t know.
I wish with every ounce of my heart that I would have followed through on my gut. Ugh. But, would I have had Matteo checked out too? Or just Rocco? Through work, I’m connected to some of the world’s greatest physicians and surgeons. All right there… within arm’s reach. UGH, ugh, ugh. If only I could turn back the clock.
Why didn’t I follow my gut then?
Was it because I felt I might be dreaming up some of this stuff in my head? Because when you work at a children’s hospital… you hear the worst of the worst stories. You become somewhat paranoid, for all the obvious reasons... constantly looking more into odd behaviors, bruises, tummy aches, etc. You also hear about absolute miracles. But, you never think… or actually... you HOPE with all your heart and soul, that you will never experience what those parents are going through. Not to mention, what their precious, precious babies are experiencing and battling. Oh, those children. Those dear children. You hear their stories and your heart breaks, you hurt for them. You cry for them. You honestly wonder if you could ever be as strong as them, or if you could ever handle your child being sick with as much courage, strength and fight as those parents do. You admire them for their strength, courage and faith... because it's so strong you can almost feel it in the air.
And, here I am. My child is gone. Gone. Forever. And, I will never, ever know if there is a fight we could have fought.
I would have fought. Dan would have fought. We would have fought HARD. Dan and I would have put on the biggest boxing gloves and fought until we couldn’t fight anymore. We would have done anything… we would have gone into extreme debt, we would have traveled a million miles, we would have done ANYTHING to still have Matt here with us. Right here. Right now. Oh, how we would have fought…
Maybe we will someday know why he died. I really hope, with my whole heart and soul that we will. I NEED to know. We are still waiting to hear back from the coroner. Still. Waiting. And, hating every day that passes with no word.
Rocco’s 18 month growth stats:
Head: 50.4 cm (off the charts)
Height: 33 inches (75th %ile)
Weight: 27lbs 10 oz (70th %ile)
Matteo’s final stats… from the coroner:
Height: 32 inches
Weight: 27lbs
When we got home from the doctor’s office today, I again looked in my Toddler 411 book. You see, I referenced this book after I put Matteo down to sleep, the night he died. I was so worried about the little guy. I was pondering in my head if I should page the doctor for the second night in a row… or if I should take him to the ER. Dan seemed to think he’d sleep it off that night and would be better in the morning. After all, we had lived this fever song/dance throughout the winter months with both boys. A million fevers. A million sick and sleepless nights. How could either of us have ever known that this fever was OH SO DIFFERENT than anything we battled before.
The physician who wrote the book clearly states… a doctor will be more concerned with a child who has a 102 fever and is acting lethargic and nonresponsive, than a child who has a 104 fever and is playing or walking around. Ok. I did read that right. I wasn’t just dreaming.
But now… I’m bruised. I'm hurt. Forever. My child had a fever. A FEVER. And, he died. He should have been there today for his 18 month well baby appointment. But, he wasn’t.
A fever will never be the same. The next fever will probably have me close to cardiac arrest.
And, I will never again have another growth statistic for Matteo Tate. He's forever frozen in time at 17 months and 25 days.
And, that hurts. A LOT.
But, instead of taking two happy, healthy, curious little guys in for their regular checkup. Together, Dan and I brought one. Just one. Never again will we experience the chaos that was involved with bringing two busy little boys… twins… to the doctor. That thought alone makes me want to vomit.
Just before leaving... Dan tells me the story of the friend of a friend who called him today to tell him yet another story of Matteo’s life/death making an impact. Apparently, parent of twins… one twin had a high fever. Parents brought child in to the ER, and the child has been there for several days, and they still don’t know what’s wrong. Of course, I don’t know the additional details/symptoms that they shared with the MD’s. It makes me happy to hear this story, of course. That they weren’t just turned away and told to bring the baby home. It makes me happy to know that because of Matteo, maybe another little life is being saved. But… shortly thereafter, I start processing this a little more in my head. “Dear God… what if I would have brought Matteo in to the ER that night? Would things be different? Would he be ok? Would he be here right now? With us?” I cry. I can’t breathe. I sob. I am physically sick.
We get to the doctor. I’m focused on Matteo and why he died. I asked if a child can die from a fever. No. It would be highly unlikely, he said. Fevers tend to top off… never really getting above 106 or 107. The last fever reading I have on Matteo from July 4th was 104.3 at 8pm. I have the entire day documented with fever readings, what he ate, when we gave him Tylenol, etc. I’m a freak like that. The detectives took photo copies of that paper. I still have it. I have referenced it daily looking for some sort of clues.
The doctor continues to tell me again that one of his thoughts is that Matteo had a very rare side effect from the Hand, Foot & Mouth Disease that the kids all picked up at the San Francisco Zoo over the last weekend in May. He said they were the worst cases he’s seen (and our MD has been practicing for quite a while). Matteo’s was by far the worst. He got hit with it first. And the blisters on his feet were horrible... and you could still see visible signs of the blisters two weeks ago. I even blogged about it. It started with a fever that wiped him out. Matter-of-fact, he was more lethargic and sick for the two days after the trip to the zoo than he was the weekend he died. WAY more sick. He took a 5 hour nap on the second day of his fever and then first started feeling better. We thought that fever/sickness was WAY worse than what hit him two weeks ago. Yes... we thought. Anyway… I was told by both the coroner and our pediatrician that in very rare cases the Coxsackie virus can impact the condition of the heart… causing cardiomyopathy. Or, it can cause changes to the size of veins, etc. Please note - I’m no MD… so don’t quote me on this.
Anyway, Dr. O did Rocco’s checkup. Rocco is in good health. However, I did ask to have a referral to a cardiac specialist to have Rocco’s heart looked at via ultrasound. If it turns out that Matteo’s death was the result of a congenital defect… then I worry about Rocco as well. After all, they were both sick constantly throughout the winter. Every other week we were battling bronchitis, an ear infection, and Rocco ended up also battling RSV and had constant issues with bronchiolitis. Dr. O agreed with me on getting Rocco’s heart checked out in more detail… saying it was a very reasonable request. Ok… good. I’m not going crazy. I’m not yet a total psycho mommy. But, I’m sure that’s just around the corner.
How ironic is it that I mentioned to a handful of people that I felt like there was more behind the boys always being sick? Even crazier is that I worried more about Rocco’s health. Matteo always seemed like the healthier of the two to me...maybe just because he didn’t get RSV and battle bronchiolitis as often as Rocco did. I don’t know.
I wish with every ounce of my heart that I would have followed through on my gut. Ugh. But, would I have had Matteo checked out too? Or just Rocco? Through work, I’m connected to some of the world’s greatest physicians and surgeons. All right there… within arm’s reach. UGH, ugh, ugh. If only I could turn back the clock.
Why didn’t I follow my gut then?
Was it because I felt I might be dreaming up some of this stuff in my head? Because when you work at a children’s hospital… you hear the worst of the worst stories. You become somewhat paranoid, for all the obvious reasons... constantly looking more into odd behaviors, bruises, tummy aches, etc. You also hear about absolute miracles. But, you never think… or actually... you HOPE with all your heart and soul, that you will never experience what those parents are going through. Not to mention, what their precious, precious babies are experiencing and battling. Oh, those children. Those dear children. You hear their stories and your heart breaks, you hurt for them. You cry for them. You honestly wonder if you could ever be as strong as them, or if you could ever handle your child being sick with as much courage, strength and fight as those parents do. You admire them for their strength, courage and faith... because it's so strong you can almost feel it in the air.
And, here I am. My child is gone. Gone. Forever. And, I will never, ever know if there is a fight we could have fought.
I would have fought. Dan would have fought. We would have fought HARD. Dan and I would have put on the biggest boxing gloves and fought until we couldn’t fight anymore. We would have done anything… we would have gone into extreme debt, we would have traveled a million miles, we would have done ANYTHING to still have Matt here with us. Right here. Right now. Oh, how we would have fought…
Maybe we will someday know why he died. I really hope, with my whole heart and soul that we will. I NEED to know. We are still waiting to hear back from the coroner. Still. Waiting. And, hating every day that passes with no word.
Rocco’s 18 month growth stats:
Head: 50.4 cm (off the charts)
Height: 33 inches (75th %ile)
Weight: 27lbs 10 oz (70th %ile)
Matteo’s final stats… from the coroner:
Height: 32 inches
Weight: 27lbs
When we got home from the doctor’s office today, I again looked in my Toddler 411 book. You see, I referenced this book after I put Matteo down to sleep, the night he died. I was so worried about the little guy. I was pondering in my head if I should page the doctor for the second night in a row… or if I should take him to the ER. Dan seemed to think he’d sleep it off that night and would be better in the morning. After all, we had lived this fever song/dance throughout the winter months with both boys. A million fevers. A million sick and sleepless nights. How could either of us have ever known that this fever was OH SO DIFFERENT than anything we battled before.
The physician who wrote the book clearly states… a doctor will be more concerned with a child who has a 102 fever and is acting lethargic and nonresponsive, than a child who has a 104 fever and is playing or walking around. Ok. I did read that right. I wasn’t just dreaming.
But now… I’m bruised. I'm hurt. Forever. My child had a fever. A FEVER. And, he died. He should have been there today for his 18 month well baby appointment. But, he wasn’t.
A fever will never be the same. The next fever will probably have me close to cardiac arrest.
And, I will never again have another growth statistic for Matteo Tate. He's forever frozen in time at 17 months and 25 days.
And, that hurts. A LOT.
7/14/09
Where's my third?
What's next? Where do we go from here? How do we keep going... day to day? Why do I feel like a truck has run me over, at several different points throughout the day? Where is my third child? I know I have 3 kids, right? Where is my third baby... I swear he was just here. I should eat something... or drink something. I feel like I'm going to pass out. It's 2pm and I haven't eaten or drank anything. Totally not hungry. But, I know I need to eat. I eat something. Then, I look at a photo of Matt... or have a memory of Matt. I feel sick to my stomach... feel like throwing up. Food sucks. Everything sucks.
I hate having "extra" time... the time I would have spent taking care of sweet little Matteo... fixing his morning bottle and snuggling him for 2 hours straight. Why do I have free time now? Why do I have more time in my day? Why am I not cleaning up after three kids. Why am I not sitting playing blocks with Matt? Why am I not bathing three kids? Why is bathtime so quiet and calm now? This sucks. I want the chaos back. I want the crazyness back. I want to go through a gallon of milk every day again. I want to see my three babies playing. I want to be busy beyond belief again. Two kids is too easy. I want my third back... where is he?
It hurts to look at two highchairs, a bedroom with two cribs, two sets of some shirts, pants, etc. But, I'm not ready to let go of any of it yet... that would be like getting rid of Matt right now.
Why is it I can't sit down and watch "Go Diego, Go!" anymore... it sucks... Matteo should be here watching it. Where is he? I swear he was just here. Did someone just take him? To figure out what was wrong with him? Then, they'll bring him back to me, healthy, and tell me what was wrong with him... right? I'm waiting... still waiting. Maybe if I look out the door they'll bring him back...
Why does everything seem so abnormal? Will life ever feel normal again? Why can't I focus on a conversation? Why did I give my childhood telephone number when asked on the phone just yesterday what number was best to reach me at. So random. I haven't said that number in so long. Why am I forgetting things? Things I don't normally forget? Why am I so tired? What is wrong with me? Oh yeah... Matteo... he's gone. Right.
Why haven't they called to tell me why he died yet? Did I do something wrong? Why did he die? Did we miss a sign? I should have brought him to the ER. I should have paged the doctor. Why didn't I do those things? What was wrong with him. WHY DID HE DIE? WHY?! What will I tell Rocco someday... "Well, Rocco... in the beginning... you were a triplet... then, you were born with just a twin. Now you're the only one left." How will he feel? Ugh.
Gabby said she felt sick... "What? What's wrong? Are you hot? Does your tummy hurt? Why do you feel sick?" Is she warm? Watch her like a hawk. "Is Rocco acting normal?" Ok... it's ok. Nobody's sick. Calm down. But, what will I do the next time Rocco or Gabby has a fever? Overreact... probably.
We cremated my baby today. My. Sweet. Child. Was. Cremated. We witnessed it. I saw him one last time. I cut as much hair from the top of his head as I could. His hair was different. It wasn't fuzzy like it should be. He looked different. Even more different than on Saturday. It's not him anymore. It wasn't him on Saturday either... but even more not him today. That wasn't my child. My kid's the cute, bubbly, smiley, chubby-cheeked happy kid with a giggle that melts my heart. Best kid in the room. The one any parent would want to steal and could snuggle all night. That wasn't my baby in that casket. Where's Matteo?
They gave us his clothes that he's worn since last Thursday... aka, Day 4 of Hell. We put them in a bag. I opened the bag a few hours after I got home. I felt them... pulled them out. I smelled them. I cried. That's not how he smells. I don't want these clothes. That's not how my baby smells... these clothes smell like death or something. I smelled them again. I cried harder. Yuck. I can't stand this... I hate this. Death. Sucks.
Where's my third kid? I know we have one... where is he?
I hate having "extra" time... the time I would have spent taking care of sweet little Matteo... fixing his morning bottle and snuggling him for 2 hours straight. Why do I have free time now? Why do I have more time in my day? Why am I not cleaning up after three kids. Why am I not sitting playing blocks with Matt? Why am I not bathing three kids? Why is bathtime so quiet and calm now? This sucks. I want the chaos back. I want the crazyness back. I want to go through a gallon of milk every day again. I want to see my three babies playing. I want to be busy beyond belief again. Two kids is too easy. I want my third back... where is he?
It hurts to look at two highchairs, a bedroom with two cribs, two sets of some shirts, pants, etc. But, I'm not ready to let go of any of it yet... that would be like getting rid of Matt right now.
Why is it I can't sit down and watch "Go Diego, Go!" anymore... it sucks... Matteo should be here watching it. Where is he? I swear he was just here. Did someone just take him? To figure out what was wrong with him? Then, they'll bring him back to me, healthy, and tell me what was wrong with him... right? I'm waiting... still waiting. Maybe if I look out the door they'll bring him back...
Why does everything seem so abnormal? Will life ever feel normal again? Why can't I focus on a conversation? Why did I give my childhood telephone number when asked on the phone just yesterday what number was best to reach me at. So random. I haven't said that number in so long. Why am I forgetting things? Things I don't normally forget? Why am I so tired? What is wrong with me? Oh yeah... Matteo... he's gone. Right.
Why haven't they called to tell me why he died yet? Did I do something wrong? Why did he die? Did we miss a sign? I should have brought him to the ER. I should have paged the doctor. Why didn't I do those things? What was wrong with him. WHY DID HE DIE? WHY?! What will I tell Rocco someday... "Well, Rocco... in the beginning... you were a triplet... then, you were born with just a twin. Now you're the only one left." How will he feel? Ugh.
Gabby said she felt sick... "What? What's wrong? Are you hot? Does your tummy hurt? Why do you feel sick?" Is she warm? Watch her like a hawk. "Is Rocco acting normal?" Ok... it's ok. Nobody's sick. Calm down. But, what will I do the next time Rocco or Gabby has a fever? Overreact... probably.
We cremated my baby today. My. Sweet. Child. Was. Cremated. We witnessed it. I saw him one last time. I cut as much hair from the top of his head as I could. His hair was different. It wasn't fuzzy like it should be. He looked different. Even more different than on Saturday. It's not him anymore. It wasn't him on Saturday either... but even more not him today. That wasn't my child. My kid's the cute, bubbly, smiley, chubby-cheeked happy kid with a giggle that melts my heart. Best kid in the room. The one any parent would want to steal and could snuggle all night. That wasn't my baby in that casket. Where's Matteo?
They gave us his clothes that he's worn since last Thursday... aka, Day 4 of Hell. We put them in a bag. I opened the bag a few hours after I got home. I felt them... pulled them out. I smelled them. I cried. That's not how he smells. I don't want these clothes. That's not how my baby smells... these clothes smell like death or something. I smelled them again. I cried harder. Yuck. I can't stand this... I hate this. Death. Sucks.
Where's my third kid? I know we have one... where is he?
7/12/09
"Why did Matatoe die?"
Gabby & I woke up together this morning... quite late... as I seem to never be able to fall asleep before 3am anymore. She woke up happy and giggly and then she layed back down and looked up at the ceiling and started an interesting conversation...
Gabby: "Mommy, why did Matatoe die?"
Me: "Well Gabby... we don't know yet. We know he was sick and had a fever... but we don't yet know why he died."
Gabby: "But mommy.... why did he die?"
Me: "That's a very good question... I don't know why he died yet."
Then, my SIL, Patty, and my mom later told me that Gabby was with them in another room... and she was looking at all the Matteo photo boards we made for the funeral. She was asking what the words were on each of the boards. Then she was telling my mom what the letters were in Matteo's name. I guess she stopped... and started putting her little hands on all the different photos of him. And... she started another conversation...
Gabby: "Why did Matateo die?"
Gammy: "We don't know yet Gabby."
Gabby: "Yeah. But what made him die?"
Gammy: "We're trying to find out... we know he was sick."
Gabby: "I'm just going to fight and kick and keep it away from me. I don't want to die, Gammy... why did he die?"
Gabby: "Mommy, why did Matatoe die?"
Me: "Well Gabby... we don't know yet. We know he was sick and had a fever... but we don't yet know why he died."
Gabby: "But mommy.... why did he die?"
Me: "That's a very good question... I don't know why he died yet."
Then, my SIL, Patty, and my mom later told me that Gabby was with them in another room... and she was looking at all the Matteo photo boards we made for the funeral. She was asking what the words were on each of the boards. Then she was telling my mom what the letters were in Matteo's name. I guess she stopped... and started putting her little hands on all the different photos of him. And... she started another conversation...
Gabby: "Why did Matateo die?"
Gammy: "We don't know yet Gabby."
Gabby: "Yeah. But what made him die?"
Gammy: "We're trying to find out... we know he was sick."
Gabby: "I'm just going to fight and kick and keep it away from me. I don't want to die, Gammy... why did he die?"
Matteo Tate
Matteo (meaning = Gift of God)
Tate (meaning = Full of Cheer)
We certainly named him appropriately...
Mommy's Letter to Matteo
Read by Jodi during Matteo's memorial service/funeral.
****
My Dear Sweet Baby Matteo,
I usually don’t have a difficult time finding words. But, for the first time in my life, I’m really struggling.
So many things to say… and I don’t know where to begin.
My heart is broken. Completely broken. I ache for you with a pain that I have never before known and I’m not yet sure how to manage.
I am so thankful that we spent last Friday together as a family. And, I am so thankful I was able to care for you and snuggle and love you all day last Saturday. If only I would have known that it was going to be my last day with you. I wouldn’t have taken my eyes off of you for a single moment, or ever put you down to sleep by yourself. I would have held you all night long. Even if I would have known you were going to die… I would have held you so you wouldn’t have to be scared, so you would feel loved, and so you would know you weren’t alone.
The night you died… I had prayed to God. I said “Dear God, please take care of my sweet baby Matteo. He is very sick, he has a 104.3 fever and really needs your help so he can get better fast. I don’t know what is wrong with him – but he doesn’t deserve to be sick anymore.” Now, I find myself wondering if that is the moment in which God decided to make you an angel. He took you exactly one year to the day in which you were baptized. How I wish you would have woken me up in that instant so I could run to your room and make you come back to us.
When I first saw you Sunday morning. I knew instantly you were gone and you had been for a while. I knew in my heart and soul that you were now an angel among us. But, I couldn’t put you down. I didn’t want to let you go.
Mommies are supposed to make you feel better. We fix things, give hugs and kisses and help make the pain go away. As your mommy, I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you from whatever took you away from us that horrible night. I find myself desperately trying to make sense of it all… and that is very, very difficult.
Over the past few nights, I’ve found comfort in looking at the moon and stars. There was a really bright star in the sky on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday night. It was brighter than any other star out there. I hoped and wanted to believe so desperately that it was you… telling me you were ok. You were safe. You didn’t feel sick anymore and you were happy up in Heaven and would watch over us forever.
I find myself constantly yearning and looking for signs of your presence. I hear birds chirping... and I tell Gabby that it’s you telling us “Good Morning”. I see a random bird fly by… and I tell Gabby it’s you just checking in on us. Little Matt… if only you knew how lost I feel right now… and how sad and empty I am without you here in my arms.
Everything about life seems different now. Absolutely EVERYTHING. You’ve changed me to the core of who I thought I was.
In my mind I can still see you clearly. I can smell you. I can still feel you burrowing into my shoulder. I can feel your hair between my fingers. I just can’t believe you’re gone. And, I’m so scared to not see your face clearly anymore and to lose my sense of feeling you.
What I do know is that your daddy and I could not be more proud of who you were.
You were and will remain in our memories, the absolute PERFECT child.
You are a child every parent would brag about. You were the happiest little baby I have ever known. Always smiling and full of hugs and kisses. I loved how I could snuggle up to you for hours and how you would be perfectly content. I loved watching you observe the world you lived in… never in a hurry… just taking in each moment, perfectly comfortable with quiet play time, and interacting with those who loved you. You were as content in this world as you were in my womb. Always a gentle soul… so loving… and an absolute angel from the start.
You were beautiful and handsome and I so looked forward to seeing the man you would become.
For someone with such a short life… there are so many things I already miss.
I miss
* Seeing your big happy smile and hearing your silly happy laugh.
* Your wiggles and dances.
* Your beautiful, handsome face, your golden suntanned skin, your perfect feet and hands and your fuzzy, curly, white-boy fro mohawk hair.
* Seeing you greet your brother every morning with a big smile and a hug and kiss.
* Seeing you throw your right arm up in the air, and yell “Dadaaaaaaa!” to always greet your daddy.
* Seeing Dan hold and hug you, and you nuzzling into his shoulder.
* Seeing Gabby hug and kiss you and love all over you, and you loving it.
* Seeing Rocco kiss you on the lips. Seeing you kiss Rocco. Seeing the two of you hug… and do all those crazy things only twins do.
* Hearing you say “Eyes”… and then reaching over to slowly poke your brother in the eye.
* You burying your head in my shoulder and hiding your face when someone new was within arm’s reach of us. And you pretending like they couldn’t see you just because your face was buried… and then your sudden glances to them with your silly crazy eyes face.
* Seeing you get SO excited to see me, and having you and Rocco fight over me.
* Seeing you play so contently for hours with all your blocks and toys.
* Seeing you ride the rocking horse and cruising on your toy trucks throughout the house and up and down the neighborhood sidewalks.
* Seeing and hearing multiple twin battles take place throughout the day… over toys, blankets, sippy cups and bottles.
* Seeing Rocco steal food off your tray.
* Hearing your precious voice and growing vocabulary.
Matt, I want you to know your precious little soul has touched so many people. You have impacted more people in one week than I could EVER hope to impact in my lifetime. Your daddy and I have received so many wonderful letters from people we know and people we don’t know. We have had so many conversations this week about what people have learned from you. Because of you, more mommies and daddies are spending extra time with their sweet babies... more hugs are being given… more kind words are being exchanged… priorities are changing... and a deeper sense of understanding and patience is spreading around the globe like wildfire. Such an amazing feat for a young little man. And for that, I am an incredibly proud mommy.
In losing you… you have taken away my fear of death. I now have absolutely no doubt that Heaven exists and I KNOW I will see you again someday. I don’t know when… but I do believe and know I will see you again. Knowing that you are in Heaven makes it seem oddly welcoming. I SO look forward to the day I will see your beautiful face again and am able to hold you in my arms. But this time… I will NEVER let you go.
Until then sweet angel, Matt, please watch over your sister, brother and baby Surprise. Keep them safe and please help to guide them in troubling times. Please watch over your daddy and I, and help us find strength in each other while we struggle in this new life without you. Please be a guardian to your cousins, aunts and uncles, grandmas and grandpas, and all of our dear and beloved friends.
Matteo – I do KNOW you are an angel. I know you are with us. And, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for letting me be your mommy… for sharing your life with us… and for being so perfectly, PERFECTLY you. You will continue to live on in my heart and soul. Forever. And, not a minute of every day will pass without me thinking of you.
I love you sweet precious baby.
****
My Dear Sweet Baby Matteo,
I usually don’t have a difficult time finding words. But, for the first time in my life, I’m really struggling.
So many things to say… and I don’t know where to begin.
My heart is broken. Completely broken. I ache for you with a pain that I have never before known and I’m not yet sure how to manage.
I am so thankful that we spent last Friday together as a family. And, I am so thankful I was able to care for you and snuggle and love you all day last Saturday. If only I would have known that it was going to be my last day with you. I wouldn’t have taken my eyes off of you for a single moment, or ever put you down to sleep by yourself. I would have held you all night long. Even if I would have known you were going to die… I would have held you so you wouldn’t have to be scared, so you would feel loved, and so you would know you weren’t alone.
The night you died… I had prayed to God. I said “Dear God, please take care of my sweet baby Matteo. He is very sick, he has a 104.3 fever and really needs your help so he can get better fast. I don’t know what is wrong with him – but he doesn’t deserve to be sick anymore.” Now, I find myself wondering if that is the moment in which God decided to make you an angel. He took you exactly one year to the day in which you were baptized. How I wish you would have woken me up in that instant so I could run to your room and make you come back to us.
When I first saw you Sunday morning. I knew instantly you were gone and you had been for a while. I knew in my heart and soul that you were now an angel among us. But, I couldn’t put you down. I didn’t want to let you go.
Mommies are supposed to make you feel better. We fix things, give hugs and kisses and help make the pain go away. As your mommy, I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you from whatever took you away from us that horrible night. I find myself desperately trying to make sense of it all… and that is very, very difficult.
Over the past few nights, I’ve found comfort in looking at the moon and stars. There was a really bright star in the sky on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday night. It was brighter than any other star out there. I hoped and wanted to believe so desperately that it was you… telling me you were ok. You were safe. You didn’t feel sick anymore and you were happy up in Heaven and would watch over us forever.
I find myself constantly yearning and looking for signs of your presence. I hear birds chirping... and I tell Gabby that it’s you telling us “Good Morning”. I see a random bird fly by… and I tell Gabby it’s you just checking in on us. Little Matt… if only you knew how lost I feel right now… and how sad and empty I am without you here in my arms.
Everything about life seems different now. Absolutely EVERYTHING. You’ve changed me to the core of who I thought I was.
In my mind I can still see you clearly. I can smell you. I can still feel you burrowing into my shoulder. I can feel your hair between my fingers. I just can’t believe you’re gone. And, I’m so scared to not see your face clearly anymore and to lose my sense of feeling you.
What I do know is that your daddy and I could not be more proud of who you were.
You were and will remain in our memories, the absolute PERFECT child.
You are a child every parent would brag about. You were the happiest little baby I have ever known. Always smiling and full of hugs and kisses. I loved how I could snuggle up to you for hours and how you would be perfectly content. I loved watching you observe the world you lived in… never in a hurry… just taking in each moment, perfectly comfortable with quiet play time, and interacting with those who loved you. You were as content in this world as you were in my womb. Always a gentle soul… so loving… and an absolute angel from the start.
You were beautiful and handsome and I so looked forward to seeing the man you would become.
For someone with such a short life… there are so many things I already miss.
I miss
* Seeing your big happy smile and hearing your silly happy laugh.
* Your wiggles and dances.
* Your beautiful, handsome face, your golden suntanned skin, your perfect feet and hands and your fuzzy, curly, white-boy fro mohawk hair.
* Seeing you greet your brother every morning with a big smile and a hug and kiss.
* Seeing you throw your right arm up in the air, and yell “Dadaaaaaaa!” to always greet your daddy.
* Seeing Dan hold and hug you, and you nuzzling into his shoulder.
* Seeing Gabby hug and kiss you and love all over you, and you loving it.
* Seeing Rocco kiss you on the lips. Seeing you kiss Rocco. Seeing the two of you hug… and do all those crazy things only twins do.
* Hearing you say “Eyes”… and then reaching over to slowly poke your brother in the eye.
* You burying your head in my shoulder and hiding your face when someone new was within arm’s reach of us. And you pretending like they couldn’t see you just because your face was buried… and then your sudden glances to them with your silly crazy eyes face.
* Seeing you get SO excited to see me, and having you and Rocco fight over me.
* Seeing you play so contently for hours with all your blocks and toys.
* Seeing you ride the rocking horse and cruising on your toy trucks throughout the house and up and down the neighborhood sidewalks.
* Seeing and hearing multiple twin battles take place throughout the day… over toys, blankets, sippy cups and bottles.
* Seeing Rocco steal food off your tray.
* Hearing your precious voice and growing vocabulary.
Matt, I want you to know your precious little soul has touched so many people. You have impacted more people in one week than I could EVER hope to impact in my lifetime. Your daddy and I have received so many wonderful letters from people we know and people we don’t know. We have had so many conversations this week about what people have learned from you. Because of you, more mommies and daddies are spending extra time with their sweet babies... more hugs are being given… more kind words are being exchanged… priorities are changing... and a deeper sense of understanding and patience is spreading around the globe like wildfire. Such an amazing feat for a young little man. And for that, I am an incredibly proud mommy.
In losing you… you have taken away my fear of death. I now have absolutely no doubt that Heaven exists and I KNOW I will see you again someday. I don’t know when… but I do believe and know I will see you again. Knowing that you are in Heaven makes it seem oddly welcoming. I SO look forward to the day I will see your beautiful face again and am able to hold you in my arms. But this time… I will NEVER let you go.
Until then sweet angel, Matt, please watch over your sister, brother and baby Surprise. Keep them safe and please help to guide them in troubling times. Please watch over your daddy and I, and help us find strength in each other while we struggle in this new life without you. Please be a guardian to your cousins, aunts and uncles, grandmas and grandpas, and all of our dear and beloved friends.
Matteo – I do KNOW you are an angel. I know you are with us. And, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for letting me be your mommy… for sharing your life with us… and for being so perfectly, PERFECTLY you. You will continue to live on in my heart and soul. Forever. And, not a minute of every day will pass without me thinking of you.
I love you sweet precious baby.
Gabby's Special Letter to Matteo
We worked with Gabby on a letter to her brother Matteo. These are Gabby's words only. We read it at Matteo's memorial service/funeral today.
****
Dear Matatoe (pronounced like & rhymes with potato),
I sent Matatoe a balloon... to him in the sky.
Rocco said “I want the balloon” and “I love Matatoe”.
I like him to play with me every day. I love him.
He still is dead, but he’ll come back to us. Don’t cry when he looks dead. It will be ok. It won’t be scary.
I love Matatoe in our whole live hearts.
I love him.
Don’t worry… he can come back to us. He is in my heart. He is in Daddy’s heart. He is in mommy’s and Rocco’s heart. He is in all our hearts.
He will never come back… but he will.
He is an angel now.
He makes the birds chirp for us in the morning.
Mommy showed me his star in the sky… we saw him. Angels are stars sometimes. He will come back to us… he is an angel and angels have powers to be more than one thing. Matatoe is in your heart mommy. He will come back to us.
Right now he’s on our shoulder, but I don’t see him on our shoulder.
I love Matatoe.
Words spoken by Gabriella Grace Martino.
Age 3.5
July 10, 2009
****
Dear Matatoe (pronounced like & rhymes with potato),
I sent Matatoe a balloon... to him in the sky.
Rocco said “I want the balloon” and “I love Matatoe”.
I like him to play with me every day. I love him.
He still is dead, but he’ll come back to us. Don’t cry when he looks dead. It will be ok. It won’t be scary.
I love Matatoe in our whole live hearts.
I love him.
Don’t worry… he can come back to us. He is in my heart. He is in Daddy’s heart. He is in mommy’s and Rocco’s heart. He is in all our hearts.
He will never come back… but he will.
He is an angel now.
He makes the birds chirp for us in the morning.
Mommy showed me his star in the sky… we saw him. Angels are stars sometimes. He will come back to us… he is an angel and angels have powers to be more than one thing. Matatoe is in your heart mommy. He will come back to us.
Right now he’s on our shoulder, but I don’t see him on our shoulder.
I love Matatoe.
Words spoken by Gabriella Grace Martino.
Age 3.5
July 10, 2009
7/9/09
Wiggles & Dance.
I found these two recent videos of Matt and the kids... it makes me sob to see them now. But, I'm so glad I have them.
Make sure you take the time to wiggle with your kid(s) today.
Make sure you take the time to wiggle with your kid(s) today.
Dan recorded this one morning and it's the sweetest thing ever. In the past few months, Dan and I have commented countless times how much fun it is to watch the three kids play together. We LOVED watching them all play together. LOVED it. Literally. We would always talk about how this was the best part of parenting and how we couldn't imagine having less than 3 kids... simply because of how much fun it was to watch the interaction and love between them. And yes, fights too of course. But those were more humourous than anything. We'd talk about how we looked forward to how they'd interact at X age... or how it would be so fun to continue watching Rocco and Matteo play ball together. Rocco always the thrower... Matteo always the catcher. I just honestly can NOT believe I won't ever again be able to see my three babies play together again. It breaks my heart over and over again.
Just wish I had recorded a million more things that somehow I didn't.
7/8/09
Matteo Tate Martino Memorial
Many people have asked, and I now have the information to share.
If you wish to contribute to the MATTEO TATE MARTINO MEMORIAL, please follow the below instructions.
1. Make checks out to: MATTEO TATE MARTINO MEMORIAL.
2. You may send the check to our home if you prefer. For obvious reasons, our address will not be shared here.
3. Or, you can mail a check directly to this address:
ELECTRIC FEDERAL CREDIT UNION
PO BOX 6479
SAN JOSE, CA 95150-6479
Please know that because we do not yet know the cause of death, we are uncertain at this point as to how the funds will be used or awarded.
Many people have also asked if they can bring a meal to us. Yes, you can. And, yes, it will be very much appreciated. More than words can describe. Truly. In the hopes that nothing will go to waste, please contact KATHLEEN HART, who has so kindly offered to manage a dinner/meal schedule for us. She can be reached at kmhart23@hotmail.com or via her home phone #408.395.4787.
Again... thank you for all the hugs, tears, kind words, thoughts, reaching out with your own stories of loss, advice, virtual hugs... and just everything.
Please know that if you have called or sent a note or a text and we have not gotten back to you yet, it is not because we are ignoring you or didn't see or hear your message. This week has been very traumatic, as you know. And, there has been a whirlwind of activity surrounding the planning of Matt's funeral, etc., that is keeping us busier than we would prefer.
Trust me when I say Dan & I are taking the time to reread everything or listen to everything more than once. It helps us and is our current therapy. We feel compelled to respond to and thank everyone for every gesture of kindness and every note or message we've received... it may just take longer than we would like.
If you wish to contribute to the MATTEO TATE MARTINO MEMORIAL, please follow the below instructions.
1. Make checks out to: MATTEO TATE MARTINO MEMORIAL.
2. You may send the check to our home if you prefer. For obvious reasons, our address will not be shared here.
3. Or, you can mail a check directly to this address:
ELECTRIC FEDERAL CREDIT UNION
PO BOX 6479
SAN JOSE, CA 95150-6479
Please know that because we do not yet know the cause of death, we are uncertain at this point as to how the funds will be used or awarded.
Many people have also asked if they can bring a meal to us. Yes, you can. And, yes, it will be very much appreciated. More than words can describe. Truly. In the hopes that nothing will go to waste, please contact KATHLEEN HART, who has so kindly offered to manage a dinner/meal schedule for us. She can be reached at kmhart23@hotmail.com or via her home phone #408.395.4787.
Again... thank you for all the hugs, tears, kind words, thoughts, reaching out with your own stories of loss, advice, virtual hugs... and just everything.
Please know that if you have called or sent a note or a text and we have not gotten back to you yet, it is not because we are ignoring you or didn't see or hear your message. This week has been very traumatic, as you know. And, there has been a whirlwind of activity surrounding the planning of Matt's funeral, etc., that is keeping us busier than we would prefer.
Trust me when I say Dan & I are taking the time to reread everything or listen to everything more than once. It helps us and is our current therapy. We feel compelled to respond to and thank everyone for every gesture of kindness and every note or message we've received... it may just take longer than we would like.
7/7/09
Words. And, thank you...
The past two days of our lives have been the worst. In some moments, it feels like Matteo died 14 days ago. And, in other moments, the memories are so fresh and painful... it feels like 14 seconds ago.
And yet, I don't think Dan or I have ever before felt more loved by our amazing, unbelieveable network of family and friends (old and new).
Isn't it strange and awful... how tragedy seems to make us stop and immediately know what is important in life.
The past two nights, I've spent a lot of time looking at the moon and stars. A very bright star off to the left of the moon, in particular... that seems to have caught my eye. Monday night, I sat in Rocco & Matteo's room in the rocking chair until 2am. I rocked by myself... looking into Rocco's crib - listening to him breathe. I talked to Matteo for a long time. Several times, I swear I saw him. I even saw him standing in Rocco's crib looking towards the window... it was so clear and vivid, I had to get up to try and reach for him. My heart skipped beats. But, he wasn't there.
I sat there wishing he was laying in his crib. His empty crib. Not even a sheet on the mattress. Everything was taken from our home that awful, tragic morning. His sheets, his blankets. I can't even hold them. They took them from us.
I do however have the cute blue "Matteo" towel a dear friend gave to us, which I cradled him and tried to warm him up in after his last bath. Untouched. Unwashed. I also have the fleece jacket I wore all day Saturday... with Matteo's hair still weaved into it in several places. Him and I spent the majority of the day together, snuggling on the sofa, in our morning snuggles position. I buried my nose into the shoulder and took deep breaths today. I smelled my baby. But, it didn't take away my hurt.
Rocco is stressed and it was incredibly evident today. His best friend, Matteo, is gone. And, he knows. Yesterday, Rocco went to Matteo's crib and patted it, saying "No Tao... no Tao" and then layed down on his blankie on the floor... looking in the direction of the now empty crib. This morning... my parents said he looked into the mirror in his playroom and said "Tao, Tao" and then layed down and cried. He has cried more today and acted out more than he ever has in the past. Little things that never bothered him before, bother him today. Everything is more dramatic for him. Tonight, 20 minutes after we put him to bed.... I went to retrieve him (so he could come sit with me & the family downstairs) after hearing him scream "Momma... momma". I went up to check him and he was hovering in the corner looking scared and paniced and crying like I had never heard him cry. A fearful cry. Normally, if he was upset or crying in bed and not going down easily... he was standing, jumping and screaming/crying, boldly.
On Monday night, Gabby spent 15 minutes telling me, Dan, Gammy, Papa, Uncle Dave and Julia, with incredible, explicit detail... all that she unfortunately witnessed that awful morning. I was so saddened to hear her repeat it over and over to us. But, so glad she could tell us in so many words, with such detail... and allow us to explain what was happening. That daddy wasn't trying to hurt Matteo. Daddy was trying to bring him back to life while on the phone with 911.
We continue to be amazed by the outpouring of love from everyone. People we know. People we don't know. Family near and far. Friends we talk to often. Friends we haven't heard from in years but hold in our memories and hearts. It amazes us. And, somehow... it seems to help.
It helps to hear someone cry on the other end of the phone. It helps to hug someone, be hugged and just cry together. It helps to read notes... even if you don't know what to say, and say that you don't know what to say. I mean... what do you say? There are no perfect, magic words. No words will change things. No words will bring our dear, sweet Matteo back to us. No words will make us not hurt or feel this pain. No words are wrong or hurtful. We know you are trying to tell us you love us, that you're thinking of us, that you're praying for us, that you're holding our dear sweet baby in your hearts and thoughts. And, that means everything to us right now.
I wonder if I will ever live another day in my life where I do not start and end my day with crying. I wonder if I will ever again sleep more than 3 hours at night. Every time I wake up, I see Matteo, my mind starts racing, and I can't sleep. I wonder if I will ever be able to feel truly happy and whole again. I doubt it. I wonder if when someone I don't know at a checkout counter or wherever asks me how I am doing, I won't think in my head of replying with "F*&*ing AWFUL... how much time do you have?"
I wonder if I will ever not think of Matteo every single minute of my life... because I honestly HOPE with all of my heart that I do not go a minute without thinking of him. Right now... it's hard to leave my home filled with his photos and happy memories.
We are still trying to understand why Matteo left us. We have no answers yet. And that is additionally painful. My baby had a fever. A FEVER. Why did he DIE?!
I know I will spend the rest of my life trying to make sense of this awful, horrible tragedy.
In a way, I suppose our precious little Matt's life has impacted your lives in many ways by now. We have heard from so many people... around the world and back again. People we know. People we don't know.
Maybe you'll hug your kids tighter. Maybe you'll hug your family and friends tighter. Maybe you'll understand that some of the chaos your dealing with in your day today really doesn't matter in the big scheme of life. Maybe your troubles today will seem less troublesome. Maybe you will stop and smell the roses. Maybe your priorities will change.
What a big feat for such a little man. Truly.
If Matteo has changed you, and made you stop and think about what is important to you... then I could not be a more proud mommy. But... I would do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING to have him back here with me... right here, right now... this instant. Yes, I would be that selfish. He was the happiest little man I have ever met. Always smiling. Always wiggling when happy. Always wiggle wobbling his silly little walk while happily following his big sister and brother throughout the house. He was what life is all about.
Dan and I both thank you for taking the time to reach out to us.
Your thoughtfulness will not be forgotten and is helping us through this incredibly, unbearable, difficult time in our lives.
THANK YOU!
Matteo's Funeral Arrangements
Here are the details surrounding the funeral service for our beloved son, Matteo.
There will be no burial service. We decided to have Matteo's remains cremated so he will always be with us and within an arm's reach from our hearts.
All friends and family are welcome at our home following the ceremony.
Many people have asked if they can contribute to a memorial fund. Please know we are working on these details and hope to have this information to share within the next 24 hours.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
St. Mary's Church
219 Bean Avenue
Los Gatos, CA 95030
11am - 1pm: Open casket viewing
1pm: Funeral Mass
There will be no burial service. We decided to have Matteo's remains cremated so he will always be with us and within an arm's reach from our hearts.
All friends and family are welcome at our home following the ceremony.
Many people have asked if they can contribute to a memorial fund. Please know we are working on these details and hope to have this information to share within the next 24 hours.
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