Saturday, May 29, 2010

Universe, can you please cut me some slack?

April 15, 2010 was the 2nd anniversary of my bilateral mastectomy. It was also the day that our son, Veo Hieu Liam Worrall-Soriano was born and then died. Veo had a birth defect called anencephaly, which causes the skull to not form and therefore, the baby would never have a chance to survive. I was admitted to Women's hospital to give birth to Veo and to say goodbye. When labour was induced, I felt the familiar pains of childbirth, but with the added pain of knowing that all the dreams we had for Veo would never come true. Each contraction that passed through me was another permanent wound. I knew that before long, we would be able to hold Veo, but only for a little while.

Throughout our stay at Women's, the staff--from the nurses to the social worker to the spiritual counsellor--helped us in every single way they could, and we will always be so thankful for that support. But as we came home, we felt the immense sadness and void fill up the space around us. We spent time together, just the two of us, and we also thought about how we would help Chloe and Mylo deal with the loss of the baby brother they were so excited to have in their lives.

Even though they are only 5 and 6 years old, my children have gone through so much in terms of death and loss and illness, starting with my cancer diagnosis in 2007. When they were 2 and 3 years old, they watched me transform from a healthy young mom who could easily fulfill all their needs into a sick, bald woman who spent a lot of time in bed. They watched me give myself white blood cell booster injections, and they watched me recover from my surgery, with drains hanging out of me. They watched me get better again. Then they endured their father's and my separation, trying to cope with now living between two households and understanding why grown ups behave the way they do. Now this--a baby that they never saw but hugged through my belly, a baby whom they had all these plans to play with, a baby for whom they drew pictures and made up stories--this baby they wanted--he was dead. Why? My heart broke when Chloe asked me, "Mama, can we have a baby that doesn't get sick and die?"

It's been over a month since Veo's birth and death, and we're still feeling the loss. Chloe and Mylo have resumed their lives as usual, but now and then they ask me about Veo. They ask to see the tiny footprints the hospital gave us, they ask to burn some incense for him. The hospital gave us teddy bears to give to the kids, and the funeral home gave us a stuffed elephant--all as reminders of Veo. Every night the kids are with me, they hug those stuffies and remember their brother.

Now, I sit alone in my apartment. The kids are with their dad. Anton is going to be by his mother's side as she takes her final breath. It is quiet, but I'm feeling very unsettled.

Yesterday, I had a check-up with my oncologist. She wants to give me a full-body PET scan to make sure I am truly cancer-free. However, in order for me to have that done, I have to not be pregnant. And now, more than ever, Anton and I really want to have a baby. A fear struck me this morning as I thought about the PET scan: what if it shows I have cancer, and I have to go through chemo or whatever, and then I can never have kids again? I really want to say, forget the PET scan until we have the baby we want so much. But I know--I have to make sure I am good to go.

I fucking hate cancer. It keeps getting in my way.

Why can't we have this life we want so much--to be with Chloe and Mylo and their baby brother/sister, to live quietly and in the service of society? The last three years of my life have been devastation upon devastation. Yes, there has been so much that has gone right. I still have two amazing children, and I am in love with the most amazing man. Why, then, does life keep dishing out all these challenges that make me want to scream?


B. said...

Oh Brandy... I so want you to have all those things too. My heart is broken for you and your family and Veo. I'm sending out prayers/intentions that all the good things the univese owes you will start manifesting right now.

jkl said...

Brandy, my heart breaks for you and Anton.

Prosy Delacruz said...

Brandy, you are so blessed. You have two wise children who know how to love you and Anton and the new baby that went home to the Universe. The suffering is a way for God to prepare you to receive more blessings and good karma. It is happening already, when you found Anton and your new love together that seems to defy odds upon odds.

The loss is simply a loss, though it creates emotional upheaval. Our mind though interprets it as it sucks. But, really you were blessed to see a preview that while you thought you could not be pregnant, now you know you can even though you are a cancer survivor.

I have never had the disease so I will not pretend that I know how it feels and how it robs you of every positive energy you once had. But you have not succumbed to the disease, in fact, you have evolved a more loving heart, a more open being, you have become even more creative in your self-expression, as you struggled to do a poem each day, even though you were in pain, even though you said your mind was mush.

You were magnificently strong and you created beautiful poetry and you transcended being with a former partner who could not respond to you in an emotionally healthy manner. You have now succeeded to know and to feel and to have what it is to have true and genuine love from a companion who is unselfish and cares for you tremendously.

Now, what you have to do is consider, yes, consider that the pain you have had in the past is simply PAIN-BODY that must be discarded, and open up yourself more to receive all of Universe's preview of what TRUE LOVE is! You now have it!!