Coincidences or not?


Today, I met a friend for a drink. A Friday release, a mother of two who meets a few others on their off weekend. I have been invited a few times but decided to go today. I sat down, deciding I would stay no longer than an hour.

A few minutes later another friend joined, who said a few of her co workers were going to join.

Three more women sat down shortly after, I immediately knew one of them although never having met her before ‘officially’  I had…

When my daughter stopped breathing and turned blue on my living room floor six years ago this week, I gave her CPR and we travelled via ambulance to our local hospital.

This women that joined the table, well all the women worked at this local hospital and as soon as she spoke I knew it was her. It was the nurse who so sweetly spoke to my daughter before she seized up and stopped breathing, before she was intubated for the last time and returned to the Children’s hospital, were she spent the first four weeks of her life, were she had two surgeries, were she would have had four more had she lived.

The night we returned to the hospital, we were finally checked into the pediatric unit, they thought she had the flu…

The next morning, a nurse, a pretty blond French nurse came into the room to see if she could help hook my daughter up to her feeding marching, she had a G-tube that needed to be hooked up to a machine to push the milk/formula into her stomach intestine.

She called her ma petit choux, over and over, in such a sweet and endearing way that I would know that voice forever.

When Lily turned blue and stopped breathing,  she seemed scared, I walked away not knowing what to do, not wanting to cry or scream or disturb the doctors that were being summoned to help.

I was scared.

I thought this women talking so sweetly to my child must be a sign that things will be ok.

I was wrong.

Tonight that nurse walked into the restaurant I was at for no reason other than chance. She sat at my table and I recognized her and her voice.

I did not know how to approach the situation but knew it had to be acknowledged.

I said I think you were the nurse who saw my daughter, she smiled and the conversation continued. Later she asked how old  my daughter was now, I said she passed. There it was, the look. I said sorry, she said no, she remembered. My daughter was intubated before being transferred to Childrens hospital. She knew.

The odds of meeting this women at random, rare. But the odds of the events in how I knew her even more rare.

The chance of meeting her the same week, six years later, coincidence? I don’t know,

Do I know how to deal with every anniversary, or deathversary as I have come to call them. How to deal with every lost birthday, every missed date that she is not here for.

I have thought of this women many times since that day. I have thought the same phrase mon petit choux since that day, often. I endearingly said it my rainbow Hope who was born 15 months after her sister died.


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The never ending mountain


Grief; ultimately the hike of your lifetime, a steep decent into the muddy, dark mess that sticks to your boots pulling you into its sinking sludge. Sometimes a light stroll through the memories, a rainbow follows a storm and you appreciate the change. Out of nowhere a harsh incline appears as if out of nothing it feels as though you are not going anywhere but if you look back the reflection is faint. You have come further than you realise, one foot in front of the other, drag, pull, skip, jump but don’t stop. You must keep climbing. Moving forward into the hard fog for it will lift at the slighest moment to show you new beauty. The colors around you are constantly changing, the landscape never the same. New fears appear as past loss is accepted but that is the way we grow. We learn to accept, we challenge our normal, feel the hurt and keep climbing.



Sometimes the smallest things can seem like a huge hurdle to get over, take a breath, have a moment for yourself and start again.



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Our Hurting Hearts

The loss of touch hurts so much

My beating heart shudders; feels crushed

Beside each other but alone in the room

Silence outside; feeling gloom

Screaming inside; dreading doom

Tears flow in the dark

Wanting a tiny spark

Wishing you’d extend your hand

Though mine has been frozen in a far away land

Our hurting hearts have shifted apart

I dream to go back to the start

By Sheri Hall

Feb. 14 2012

I was naïvely hopeful, ignorantly wistful, my baby had a setback, that was all. We would be discharged very soon and back home to deal with our new reality. I was so focused on what had to be done to live with and take care of a child with multiple disabilities that I had no room for any other reason or facts. I needed to deal with the very arduous task of the hard future, ordering machines, thinking about lifts or special classes or needs necessities. I was blindsided.

She was admitted on Feb, 12 2012 after turning blue in her fathers arms, he screamed for me, I yelled to call 911, I gave her CPR, the attendant told me to lift her neck, a rush of quietly gasping air rushed out, oh ya. I forgot that part; guilt saved for later. She was breathing; gasping. the ambulance came within minutes. Amazing.

The next day a blur, the day after that Valentines day. I walked to the store, down the hall from the PICU in BCCH and bought these three, with so much hope. I bought Lily the little grey elephant thinking it represented her so well, her brothers got what also represented them and they still sleep with them on their bed until this day. I knew or thought, naïvely, at that time, that I would buy her a big one just like her brothers got the next year. I wanted her to pick the one she wanted. Except that did not happen, the next Valentines with her never happened. Forever a heart holiday, just now a broken reminder of one. Not the hopeful ending that everyone is comfortable with but the truth.


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