Elizabeth A. Pector, M.D.
Most of these poems reflect a progression of stages of my grief journey. I begin with a 1999 poem that expresses my thanks to patient friends, colleagues and clients.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
September, 1999
Cosmic reflections
Alone
Amid acres of sightless sunflowers
I stand on a calm clear Kansas night.
Their sleeping heads bow down
As I, stargazing,
Contemplate my plight.
So small am I,
In a universe so vast.
So large my loss:
My mourning eases but still will last.
Under the stars
On our own small world
I know that others share my pain.
Love's cruel cost--
Black holes within hearts
Where parental dreams once had been.
Peace finds me
In the stillness,
Surrounded high and low by a million suns.
God appears in the large and the little--
In the universal order
And in the grace that comes
From fellow mourners and understanding friends
Who walk with me through grief that dims, but never really ends.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Bittersweet Birth" was written in February 1997, about 2 weeks after our twins were born, when Jared was still in the hospital and I couldn't sleep at 3 AM. It is as true to my feelings today as it was when I wrote it.
Bittersweet Birth
Bittersweet, the grieving joy,
The death and birth of our twin boys.
One this world will never know,
One alone will live and grow.
Conceived and carried as a pair,
In birth alone one breathed the air.
His cry assured us he'd be fine;
His brother silent came behind.
Bryan now in heaven will dwell.
Jared will play and laugh and yell
As all strong boys are wont to do.
He'll learn in time he's one of two
And wonder at what might have been,
What life would be like with his twin.
The sharpest sting of grief will pass
And Jared will grow up too fast
As happens with most every child.
I know at times we'll see him smile
And recall our other son
Who was so like this living one.
So pain won't end, can't go away,
But joy grows stronger every day
As we experience life anew,
Seeing the world as children do.
We're grateful that we'll have a chance
To see our new son sing and dance.
To help him learn, to watch him grow,
These all are pleasures we will know.
Yet through the joy and love and care
We'll remember Bryan is not there.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Footprints was written in fall 1998, when Jared was learning to walk.
Footprints
Tiny feet
That should be taking baby steps
Instead left
Giant Footprints
Embedded in my heart.
Matching Feet
Now walking, take their baby steps
Alone.
They should have walked together
But only one will blaze a trail
His trailhead marked by
Giant Footprints
Left there by his stillborn twin:
Buried wombmate memories that linger deep within.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A second birthday poem--written January, 1999
I went to a bookstore & looked in about 10-15 baby name books for
meanings for the names Jared & Bryan. Jared is usually translated as "He descends, descending,
descendant" and once I saw "down to earth" which describes this kid to a
T. It also has been translated as "Rose." Bryan I've seen only as
"strong/strength" before. Imagine my surprise when one book gave its
meaning as "He ascends!" Others gave it as "high, honor, noble,
virtuous" or something to do with "hill." Bryant in one book was
translated as "strong in spirit."
Jared was my lower twin, decending on my sciatic nerve. We nicknamed
him Dunkin'. David called Bryan "Donut", Bryan was the upper (high one)
of the transverse twins.
What's odd is that these were just the names my husband & I finally
agreed on the sound of, after 1.5 hours of looking at name books without
considering their meanings the 3rd day I was in the hospital after
delivery. It was a very trying time, we both were exhausted, Scott had
spent 2 days looking at cemeteries, choosing a funeral home and starting
to make arrangements plus fielding calls at home. Maybe we had a little
baby angel helping us find what would be oddly appropriate names.
Happy birthday, twins of mine
One on earth and one divine.
Once you nestled close within
Your mother, top and bottom twins.
Bryan means "High" or "He Ascends."
Jared, "Down to earth" or He Descends."
Your names by accident have told
Positions you held and now still hold.
Matching names, not by design
But through God's influence do outline
Identical twins' relationships.
Jared was known for taking dips
Or "Dunkin'" on Mom's sciatic nerve.
Bryan, our "Donut," had less verve
But moved just fine when Mommy ate.
With upward kicks he'd celebrate!
Our upper twin now rests on high
Enjoying God's magnificence
His strength inspires me now to write
And moves me to beneficence.
To honor him, I educate
My peers on caring for the moms
Who carried more than one at once
But lost some babes who knew their wombs.
Jared, our rose, lives down below
And with his family loves God's world.
We're grateful on his birthday for
His first two years of life unfurled.
We hope that our descendant sees
Much more of life in years to come
And that he won't forget that he
Is twin to our strong ascended one.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Twin Math--September 1999
2 separates into 1+1,
One life lost while another's begun.
Is this why even now I hate
To see in print my twins' birthdate?
Registering for a toddler class
Recalls that day of sorrow past.
"What's your son's birthdate?" they ask on the phone,
Unaware the same date's on his twin's tombstone.
That fateful day, on 2-11
One born to earth, one born to heaven
My twins after months of waiting arrived.
We always thought they'd both survive.
My greatest fear: not a broken heart,
But how I'd tell my twins apart.
"Paint one's toenail," people would say,
But nature found another way.
Jared emerged, his small cry our thrill.
Bryan came after, silent and still.
Distinguishing my twins became quite plain:
1 alive, 1 dead, twin joy and pain.
1+1 for most is 2,
But I've been given a different view.
1+1 is not a sum,
But rather, a paradox begun
On one cold Tuesday in February
"2's day," twin motherhood not as customary
But with loving, rejoicing and grieving combined,
The day my twins became untwined.
My 1+1 can never be 2
They're separate forever. Now all I can do
When I see 2 followed by 1 and 1
Is feel pride and pain for my dear twin sons.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Shadow Dancer" was written in January 2000 in memory of the Hale-Bopp comet, in honor of a total lunar eclipse on the night I wrote the poem,
and in honor of Jared's approaching 3rd birthday on earth,
Bryan's 3rd birthday in heaven.
Shadow Dancer
Bryan's spirit
Lives within your energy.
Laughing Mirror
Grief eclipsed the joy
That you reflect to me.
Heaven's Wonder
Tiny infant's comet
Blazed across the sky.
Three years later
Loving Jared,
Still I miss my "Gemini."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A poem written on New Year's Day, 2000, in honor of Harold Fee, a dear patient who died that day after a very long illness at age 48 after he and his family had suffered way too many crises in the previous few years:
Lord God
You are the fire that burned the bush
But did not consume it.
You are the small still voice
From which we hide.
I am a bruised, bent reed in the wilderness
Dry and near breaking.
Please send rain
To ease my thirst
And take away the harsh sun's glare.
I prayed, and you answered.
Tears rained on me from those I love.
Refreshed, I now stand tall.
Soft voices whispered hope.
I do not hide.
Flame burns throughout my being,
Grief born of love.
It will not consume, but transform.
Your ways we cannot understand.
Be with us through the valley of the shadow
And, we plead, soon spread the table before us.
We have waited oh, so long.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Seeds, a metaphor: 9/10/00
These random idle thoughts are courtesy of my 9 year-old son David's
homework project: find some seeds & bring them back to class.
I found seeds at the cemetery where our twin son Bryan is buried
(acorns, & dandelion seeds.) I found them in our house (a lovely
aromatic mixture of caraway, cumin, dill, fennel, mustard & poppy...a
good test to see if your sinuses work!) And in our refrigerator--in the
apple I plan to eat while I watch a movie tonight. I found them in our
yard (pine cones; and bird seed I bought to resurrect my birdwatching
hobby, which has lain dormant since the birth of the twins.) I found
them in a field where Jared likes to wander...and recalled the pleasure
of wandering in fields myself while I was growing up. (Milkweed pods,
and thistle.)
I found seeds in the Bible..."The ones sown on the good soil: they hear
the word and accept it and bear fruit, 30 and 60 and 100fold (Mark
4:20). "The Kingdom of God...is like a mustard seed, which, when sown
upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it
is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts
forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its
shade." (Mark 4:30-32)
Our seeds are in our children...those living and those gone. The
potential of our living children will slowly become apparent and evolve,
year by year, until they reach adulthood. This slow, sometimes arduous
and painful, sometimes joyful and amazing journey is what we all
expected when we sought to become parents. Some of us have special
needs children and rejoice in deceptively simple accomplishments: a few
words, walking unassisted, reaching out for a hug. For all of us,
parenthood is not something we take for granted.
The potential of some of our children died with them...and it is
tempting to think that's the end of the story. However, imagining who
they could have been, and realizing how they have touched our lives and
changed us, shows that they have borne fruit and continue to do so in
us. We bear fruit when we are motivated because of the death of our
children to be kind to others, to educate the ignorant, to help the
underprivileged, or neglected or disabled children. (And for those of us
who are Christian, when we do these things for the least of our
brothers, we do them for the Lord.)
Nature's seeds have potential. They can bring us shade trees and
beautiful fall colors, homes for birds, spice and sweetness in our
lives. They feed birds, attract butterflies, and give us pretty flowers
(remember when you thought dandelions were pretty & couldn't understand
why your parents wanted to eliminate them from your yard?) They also can
poke us and give us pain (I got more than one ouch! from the thistles I
gathered today!)
Our children have potential just as great. From our small seeds--the
children who never lived to breathe or walk or talk or hug, or those who
have very serious challenges and can take nothing in life for
granted--can come great and branching deeds, new friendships, and
greater meaning in our lives, greater appreciation for the little things
and the good things that come our way. Along with the pain and pungent
spice that they sometimes also bring us!
Thank you to all who have been patient with me on my journey. And I hope
this might help re-inspire some tired or burned out parents needing a
kind word today.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Gifts to Mom from her twins on their 4th birthday (January 2001)
In true J.R.R. Tolkien Hobbit fashion, my twins have given me exquisite gifts on their past and present birthdays.
Before birth, they gave me intimate knowledge of some essential truths:
1. Kids come first. Everything I ate, drank or did would affect my two precious babies.
2. Parenting is painful. At 15 weeks of pregnancy, I felt like I was being punched inside by an octopus with boxing gloves. Jared lay on my sciatic nerve from 23 weeks into the pregnancy until they were born 10 weeks later. I still get back pain and twinges of numbness down my leg! Bryan died the day before delivery. The pain from that will never go away, either.
3. Faith, hope and love endure. There were several points throughout the pregnancy when we feared for the health of both babies, or my own health. We prayed, hoped for the best, committed to find a way to cope with whatever came. Thankfully, none of the horrible things we worried about early in pregnancy actually occurred. Yet prayers aren't always answered the way we want. The heartbreak of losing one of my sons will never leave. Hope, trust, and help from loved ones helped us through the ordeal.
4. Patience. 33 weeks carrying twins does NOT pass quickly!
5. Strength. Both emotionally and physically, I had to stay strong for my sons' sake. I managed pretty well, with a lot of help from family, the twins' club, co-workers, neighbors, friends, church members and patients. Strength also comes in recognizing when it's time to let someone else help you. I had to abandon work earlier than planned. Everyone except me understood that, and accepted it gracefully.
Fast-forwarding to their 4th birthday, here are the twins' similar,
more elaborate gifts to Mom this year:
1. Kids ALWAYS come first. It doesn't matter if mom wants to eat, take a nap, talk on the phone, put away laundry or talk to Dad. Little ones will demand full attention, grabbing your face to MAKE you look at them. Life is actually more fun if we take the time to see the world through their eyes once in awhile, instead of our boring grown-up world of "have-to-do's." There are times, too, that tears from grief just have to flow. I've found that people are very understanding if I tell them I'm thinking of my beloved, departed son.
2. Parenting is painful. And sometimes lonely. Jared was an irritable preemie, with some health problems and developmental delays. He was not really enjoyable until he turned 3. Waiting that long to be able to have fun with my living child was a great heartache. Bryan's death still hurts. Losing a child is the most painful experience a parent can endure. Even if no one else mentions Bryan, my memory is clear: I gave birth to two children, a minute apart, in 1997. I prepared for both, held both, photographed both, loved both, and continue to cherish both.
3. Faith, hope and love endure. I knew that Jared had normal intelligence, and prayed and hoped that he someday would be able to accept and return our love and feel comfortable in the world. That gift came this year. I am now SO grateful for the precious gift of Jared's goofy sense of humor, budding musical talents, love for books, and playfulness with his big brother. He now shows some abilities ahead of his age level and some others behind. We continue to pray for understanding so we can help him learn in the best way possible for his unique needs. My prayer and hope for Bryan was simply that he would not have died in vain. I could not let his death be senseless. In his memory, I have spoken and written things that have given comfort to other parents. Knowing that others have been helped as a result of our tragedy is the greatest gift that I could ever receive.
4. Patience. A crabby evening of tantrums is a long time. 3 years waiting for a child to want to hug you, or say "I love you," is a long time. 4 years waiting for potty training, which we are FINALLY on the verge of, is a VERY VERY long time. Jared is now interacting with classmates, making his first real friends. It was worth the wait. I wondered after Bryan's death if I could ever be happy again. I felt driven, rushed to accomplish things in his memory and let people know that this kind of parenting HURTS! Slowly, after about two and a half years, I learned to relax and let my feelings and impressions mature. Like fine wine, insight isn't ready before its time.
5. Strength. Jared still likes to be carried, which has resulted in much more physical strength than I expected to have!. Emotional strength to acknowledge and adapt to special needs was a much-appreciated 3rd birthday gift from Jared. I'll continue to need this strength to discipline and guide our 4-year-old surviving twin as he explores his expanding world. Bryan's death presented me with a choice: walk through the pain and grief, or suppress it and go on with life as usual. I chose the more difficult road, and have found immeasurable blessings: friends I would never have otherwise met, greater empathy, courage to tackle things I never before tried. Bryan's gifts to me in the past two years include the strength to write for publication, speak before an audience, learn about the Internet, build a web page, and start my own business. These are things I felt hopelessly incapable of doing before I met Bryan.
So: Thank You, Jared & Bryan, for all the gifts you give your Mom on your 4th birthday! I hope Jared enjoys his 4th birthday with Chuck E Cheese, his friends, chocolate cake & candles. We trust that Bryan will be looking down on us from his party in heaven, looking for the bubbles we blow to him & popping any balloons that manage to get loose from us!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Cemetery Birthday--February 2001
Rosebud Red
On
Snowdrift White
Thorny Bloom
On
Child's Delight
Cry of Life
With
Silent Birth
My Twins
Unite
Heaven and Earth
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
August, 2002 Flights of Fancy on Feathers
Fact:
Feathers are powerful and versatile. They serve many functions for birds: they permit flight, provide warmth, and allow camouflage for some birds to hide from enemies. Bright colors, like those of the showy peacock, help other birds attract mates. Babies are covered in soft, warm down, gradually shedding downy feathers for more adult feathers.
People, too, make abundant use of feathers. Native Americans used them for arrows, and in ceremonial headdresses. Westernes used quill pens till the mid-1800s, and still use them to stuff pillows, jackets and quilts. Feathers make colorful decorations for hats and clothing.
Feathers weigh next to nothing. "Light as a feather" is a common saying. Feathers tickle us and lighten our spirits. Still, they are durable, lasting about a year until a bird molts and replaces its feathers. Feathers, like feelings, can get ruffled.
Fantasy:
People have used feathers to symbolize many things. Plains Indians awarded eagle feathers to warriors for bravery. The eagle is particularly revered by many tribes. This is seen in a Pawnee song:
Eagle, come to us, with wings outstretched in sunny skies!
Eagle, come to us, and bring us peace...gentle peace.
Eagle, come to us, and give new life to us who pray.
Sioux Sundancers believed that our words are carried skyward on the wings of eagles to touch the ear of the creator.
Christians often picture angels with strong, feathered wings. A cherished song for many bereaved parents is "On Eagle's Wings." The refrain:
And He will raise you up on eagles' wings,
bear you on the breath of dawn,
make you to shine like the sun,
and hold you in the palm of His hand.
The Arapaho Ghost Dance song from another native American tribe evokes images of birds in flight, soaring over their widespread domain.
I circle
I circle
The Boundaries of the earth
The boundaries of the earth
Wearing the long wing feathers as I fly
Wearing the long wing feathers as I fly
The ancient Greeks 3000 years ago told of Icarus, who longed to fly higher than any bird. In youthful exhiliaration, he flew too close to the sun, the wax in his homemade wings melted, and he fell to his death--one of the first examples of pride going before a fall.
An African tribe, the Nuer, believe that twins are related to birds, both birds and twins being spirits who dwell in air and clouds. They do not say that a twin has died, in order to avoid harming the living twin's spirit by speaking openly of death. Instead, they say he has "flown away." The Baganda & Dogon also say that deceased twins have "flown away."
Finale:
Feathers make us think of soaring lighter than air. We remember flown twins and strong, supporting angels. We recall bravery amid slings and feathered arrows of outrageous fortune. When facing distressing circumstances, birds of a feather flock together to talk about their ruffled feelings with peers who understand. At other times we may camouflage ourselves, unwilling to be seen when sad or afraid. Ticklish feathers bring us laughter, and down comforts us with the warmth of happier memories.
Feathers represent strength, bravery and durability, but also change. In the normal cycle of a bird's life, baby down is exchanged for adult feathers, and adult feathers must be periodically shed in a normal cycle of growth and molting. This is a metaphor for the human soul's need to grow and change, and to one day fly away where our companions cannot go.
Learning from Icarus, we must know our limits. We will not always soar in body, but can soar On Eagle's Wings forever in our hearts, memories and prayers.
I hope you have found my writings inspiring and hopeful in your own journey through the hard times in life.
Elizabeth A. Pector, M.D.
"Dr. Beth"
