Newmarket Baby in York Region - The guide to all things you need for a baby in the GTA!

The trouble with being Mommy lies in the fact that we are only human; We break, we bleed and we grieve. In our children’s eyes we are their rock; their leader a superhero of sorts.  We help our children believe, nurture their spirit and love them deeper than we could have ever imagined loving another human being. We feel their pain, joy, frustrations and celebrate their daily accomplishments. What do you when you know you have to break your baby’s heart and expose them to their first hit of reality?

On December 23rd, 2008 I clung to my shopping list ready to attack the grocery store with the proud sense of knowing I will be officially ready for Christmas post grocery store visit. I was about to leave my kids with the in-laws and was told to hold on a moment. My husband was on his way and needed to see me. I smiled to myself knowing it was the pre- Christmas “don’t spend too much talk”. He is a thrifty Scottish boy after all. The moment I saw his face I knew, our lives would be forever changed. It was the look you know after loving the same man for more than fifteen years and the look you dread. I heard the words “your Dad and cancer”, nothing else.  My ears shot with pain, my chest tightened and I ran to the bathroom gasping for air, vomiting and hiding from my children. I wept as silently as I could so as not to alarm the kids. My poor babies consumed with excitement played unknowingly downstairs.

The days that followed are a complete blur, cookies for Santa, presents, feasts and brave faces from very pale and frightened adults. For the thirty six days that followed I spent most of my time in a daze . My Dad got sicker by the day. His eyes remained the same loving eyes I now long for. His spirit dimmed each day. His voice vanished and soon, so did his soul.  My Dad was gone. As he filled our world with kindness and love he left it silently and without fuss.  We didn’t get a chance to fight the disease that consumed his body but we talked easily of the love we always shared and that he also passed on to his incredible grandchildren.

The day came that I had to inevitably break my little girl’s heart. She loved two men: her Daddy and mine. She was still in her jammies at the kitchen table busily creating another crayon masterpiece, while Lucas busily inspecting tidbits of breakfast under the table, was happily babbling to himself.  Nanna’s voice in a somewhat unfamiliar tone began the conversation with memories of our dog who passed away in the spring. We reminded Meg how much we loved him but were very sad when he went to heaven to live with God. Meg sweetly looked at Nanna’s tear stained face and simply said ” Thats okay Nan, Piper still lives in our hearts.” So from there the conversation continued about how much we all loved Poppa and that he too went to live with God and Piper. Her beautiful blues widened, smile dimmed ever so slightly, looking a bit puzzled, she said “you mean dead like a bug Nanna?” and her next comment was  that  it was okay because Piper was happy to have Poppa with him.  Her confusion evident and a profound sadness filling the room she looked angelic as she tried to find words to comfort Nanna. While Nan sat silently, I continued the conversation and answered very sweet questions offering answers about not being able to visit heaven and other questions; a little voice chirped “Dare ya doe Nanna” and there beside Nanna stood my son.  In his out stretched hand he was clutching  Poppa’s comb. a black comb always peeked out of his shirt pocket, a trademark of Poppa’s.  Lucas gingerly offered Nanna the comb;  his tiny hand perched on Nannas lap. To this day I am uncertain of where or how he managed to find it. I want to believe that the four of us were not alone that day. I want to believe it was our sign.

Those winter days turned into spring, now in lazy summer days, we often visit Poppa’s garden, plant flowers, show him our toys and share with him the latest ballet moves and sometimes we even leave him notes. So do they understand death? In their own way I’m quite certain they do. They have a simple and pure comprehension of it. Yes I am sure of that. At times I am almost jealous of the simplicity of it all and the acceptance they both have. I am proud of the love they both share for Poppa and on a deeper level, hope they will have a memory of the Poppa that loved them so deeply and completely.

Through our grief we must remember it is our youth that we leave behind and the adults that we become that complicate things. Being a child is the most simple time of our lives. We believe that a single man brings presents to children around the world, that a winged fairy leaves us coins in exchange for a lost tooth and a man named Jack etches our windows while we sleep snug in our beds on frosty nights. This time of innocence is but a moment, a time of wonder and unclassified belief in all things good. No questions about God are off limits and the certainly of heaven is unwavering.  Yes, my Meg, Poppa looks down on you from heaven, and not a prouder angel you will ever find. In Poppa’s garden we will grow and change. In Poppa’s garden we will one day find more comfort than sadness. In Poppa’s garden as I watch you dance I know you don’t dance alone.

Christine Stewart is the owner and facilitator of Sprouts www.sproutsforkids.com, a company which offers mobile play programs and classes such as baby sign language.  She is a also a support group counsellor for the Infertility Association Of Canada, and a proud Mom to Meghan and Lucas.