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Someone’s Missing

The backseat of my car is strangely quiet – the ride curiously devoid of its usual symphony of animal imitations, tired cries, and gleeful toddler babbling. I turn the radio down to listen for sounds of rhythmic breathing or the gentle pop of a soother falling from my son’s sleepy lips.

It is completely quiet.

It is then, with my car enveloped in relative silence, that the panic decides to strike. The feeling is not unfamiliar; my chest tightens and I am slapped with an inexplicable feeling of alarm.

“Someone is missing.”

The thought springs unbidden to the forefront of my mind, anxiety overruling logic. I have forgotten someone, I have left them behind.

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Baby Loss: After the First Year

“Do you still have bad days?”

The question lingers in the air as I quietly debate how best to answer it. I’ve had to answer this question more frequently of late – it seems to be yet another by-product of the passage of time.

It’s been twenty months since I lost my sweet baby boy; twenty months since I felt his final kick goodbye and wailed over his tiny, breathless body. There are days when these moments feel like a lifetime ago. But there are days too when my heart aches and I miss that little boy more than words can tell.

People are naturally curious as to what the grieving process looks like now – a year and a half after loss. Most individuals have heard that “the first year is the hardest” and wonder what happens after that. Do I still grieve? Is the one year anniversary some magical line drawn in the sand that erases all grief? Do I still have “bad days?”  Read more

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2015 Christmas Video

Is it really mid-December already? Where did 2015 disappear to in such a hurry? Seems like just yesterday we were busy stuffing Alistair’s pyjamas full of towels to make this video. Hard to believe that another twelve months have past and we’re once again singing carols, decorating the tree (with non-breakable ornaments this year), and wrapping presents.

Realizing that the season of Christmas cards was upon us (and remembering how much fun we had filming last year’s holiday video) we donned our favourite ugly sweaters and got to work creating another Mannegren Christmas Special.

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Family Activity: The Vancouver Aquarium

Our family has been trying to visit the aquarium for months now. On three separate occasions we’ve arrived at Stanley Park and promptly driven home again in order to avoid parking chaos and hordes of swarming tourists. But eventually, our determination to introduce our son to the bubbly world of undersea creatures outweighed our desire to avoid pushy crowds. And so, one overcast October morning, we were delighted to finally find ourselves inside a relatively quiet Vancouver Aquarium.

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The Pumpkin Patch: Family Activity

October: the time of year when store-bought gourds begin to line the steps of neighbouring homes and fallen maple leaves give a satisfying crunch beneath your boots. It’s the month where we bust out our cozy knit sweaters and foamy lattes to fight against air that’s suddenly grown a little crisper. It’s four weeks of fake cobwebs, clever costumes, and tiny packets of chocolate. It’s also the month of everything Pumpkin.

With pumpkin spice lattes advertised on coffee shop chalkboards, carved pumpkins guarding front doors, and pumpkin smelling hand-soaps in the bathroom, it can be rather difficult to avoid these giant, orange spheres. We can buy them at the grocery store (whole or in pie form) or lug them home from the farmers market. But, for a true October adventure, there’s only one way to find the perfect pumpkin: you have to go to the Pumpkin Patch.

Because seriously, is there anything more “October-y” than a muddy field full of bright, orange pumpkins?

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To the Brave Ones, Thank You

I held the delicate, silver necklace up against the light and watched the baby birds sway on a branch; my heart burst with thankfulness for this unexpected reminder of my two boys. I hadn’t seen this pendant in over a year and yet, in that time, it had grown to mean all the more to me.

It had been an incredibly thoughtful gesture. A friend had pressed the necklace into my hand shortly after my son’s funeral: a visual reminder of a heart that would always carry two boys. But in the chaos of the following months, the necklace was somehow designated to a drawer full of tangled earrings and old bobby pins. As I stumbled once again across this gift, I questioned the strong, blinding grief that had caused me to gloss over such a beautiful gesture. Quietly, I began to wonder about all the other acts of love that had gone unacknowledged over the course of this past year.

That’s why this post is dedicated to you. The brave ones. The ones who loved us, each in their own way and their own time.

In an inadequate attempt to display the depth of my gratitude, this entry is for all those who have walked alongside us with patience, comforting arms, giving hearts, and listening ears. 

Because I need to say thanks.

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Family Update

Dearest interweb, blogosphere, and beyond,

You may have noticed that it’s been a bit quiet over here lately. I promise this neglect is not intentional, simply a byproduct of nasty flu bugs and family emergencies.

Over the past week, we have made three separate hospital trips (one for each of us): twice for dehydration and flu symptoms, and once for a baby who decided to try and back-flip out of mommy’s arms and onto the living room floor.

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Remembering Landon

One year ago today, I buried my baby.

It was grey and drizzly as we made our way from a nondescript funeral viewing room to a soggy graveside. As my husband and our fathers lifted the tiny, white casket out of the hearse, I couldn’t help but picture blue booties and a tiny baby clad in airplane pyjamas.

I had never gotten the chance to dress him, never seen him smile, or felt him burrow against my chest. I had never even seen the color of his eyes. And yet, here I was, saying good-bye.

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Family Adventures: Grouse Mountain

From trendy neighbourhood cafes to moss covered hiking trails, we’re on a quest to get off the couch and discover all that Vancouver has to offer to this mostly home-satisfied family of three. (And yes, we’ve broken the cardinal rule for every true Vancouverite and lumped the surrounding cities into our definition of “Vancouver.”) And so, launching this exploration mission on Canada Day, we figured that there was no better place to start than at the very peak of the city: Grouse Mountain.

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Happy Birthday Alistair!

To my dearest, sweetest, little man, Happy 1st Birthday!

Exactly one year ago, you and your brother surprised us with your unexpectedly early entrance. While I was busy envisioning September birthday parties amidst crunchy, fall leaves, God had an entirely different birth date in store.

And His plan was perfect!

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Infant Loss Affects Fathers Too

As our first official Father’s Day flitted by in a haze of early morning snuggles, a baby entranced by empty watchband boxes, and a quick trip to the doctor for a bad case of diaper rash, I was reminded that this day was yet another milestone for our family. Our first Father’s day was one of joy and remembrance as we celebrated my husband and the boys who made him a dad, and a time of reflection as we mourned the memories that we had hoped to make as a family of four.

Sitting on the couch, watching the lake water reflect through the window of our summer cabin, I asked my husband about his experience with grief. As he paused for a moment to think, I was struck by the sudden realization that for the past year, he has had to carry an extra heavy burden. As husband and father, his shoulders have borne the weight of both his pain and mine. He has stood tall as protector, provider and supporter for our family during an uncertain time, and he has emerged from the other side stronger but still scarred.

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Color Run: Review

I am not an athletic person. And while I like to think that somewhere deep within my bones is a hidden vein of natural athletic talent, the fact that I’ve spent the majority of my time in organized sports as a “benchwarmer” states otherwise.

So when some friends invited us to join them in a Color Run™, I was initially hesitant about paying money to have my slow-moving body trampled by a mass of super-fit, sprinting, racers. To my delight, I discovered that this race was focused on fun, rather than competition. Boasting in the fact that you can “run, walk, crawl, or cartwheel” yourself across the finish line, I hoped this event would be an easy introduction to 5k runs. And of course, outweighing the dread of having to do actual exercise was the prospect of being doused in a kaleidoscope of colored dust.

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